Voldemort Lives Again! Justin Law at Hogwarts? - DISCONTINUED
by Random Riter11
Summary: Dark wizards, corrupted souls, and obnoxious children. Justin Law is not excited about his newest assignment, hunting down "Lord Voldemort". He's even less excited about his cover - Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at a school for Witches. But, anything for Lord Death.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Anime!verse, Justin stays firmly on the side of Lord Death. DWMA and affiliates are a secret society. English rather than Japanese is used as far as honorifics and titles and other phrases of that nature go.**

* * *

The aged Headmaster sat at his desk. Said desk was dark, wood and cluttered with papers, books and strange machines. Like the desk, nearly every flat surface in the room was covered either by books or a random assortment of the bizarre contraptions scattered about the room. Some ticked, some buzzed, some shot out fumes of purple smoke, but all of them were very loud. The various noises had melded into a sort of dissonant symphony, one that most people would probably find distracting.

But, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, was hardly most people, and he would be the first to defend the cacophony. The familiar sound was soothing and helped him think.

And he really needed to think. Any help was appreciated.

"I suppose that anything is better than letting Madam Umbridge into the school," Dumbledore mused aloud.

"You don't know anything about this 'Justin Law' though," Phineas Nigellus' portrait replied, ever happy to play the Devil's Advocate.

"Better a stranger than a Ministry lackey," another portrait said.

"Is he even qualified to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Phineas countered.

"It's not his qualifications I'm concerned about," Dumbledore said. "He was schooled in America and graduated when he was thirteen. Before applying for the position he took the OWLS and NEWTS, just to clear up any doubts that might surround hiring a young, foreign wizard," Dumbledore continued, "From what the test administrators have told me, he did extremely well. Much better, in fact, than he needed to for me to consider hiring him."

"He graduated at thirteen? What's his alma mater?" Phineas asked.

"The DWMA," Dumbledore said gravely.

A ripple of silent shock made it's way around the room.

"That's not possible. Their graduates never interact with us," Phineas said, shaking his surprise before the other portraits. "We don't even know if that school exists."

It was true. The DWMA was more a rumor than an actual belief. Supposedly, deep in the deserts of Nevada, there was an entire hidden city and school. However, the area surrounding the school was so hard to traverse and the wards around it so strong, that some people believed it might not even exist. But there were whispers, small bits of gossip here and there that spoke of the power the students of the DWMA possessed. That to go against a _meister _was suicide, that the school was training the next generation of Witch Hunters.

Either way, the mystery combined with the rumors led to all sorts of myths about the DWMA. And, without ever having to prove themselves, a certain amount of prestige attached itself to the school.

Dumbledore didn't buy into the rumors. He doubted that the students there were any more powerful than the average wizard, even if the portion of people who claimed the school existed believed differently.

However, that didn't stop him from being intrigued by someone claiming to have studied there.

"Do you have any proof he's telling the truth?" Phineas asked.

"He has several documents that have lead me to believe him. Recommendations from teachers, and his headmaster, his transcripts, a few projects he did during his time there, things of that nature. He also says that one of his teachers is willing to speak to us to verify his claims."

"The opportunity to make contact with that school is enough incentive to at least consider him for the position," the portrait said after a few moments of thought. "Especially when the alternative is one of Fudge's lapdogs."

"Madam Umbridge teaching here is something we all wish to avoid, but I still find myself hesitant to accept him. He's only seventeen," Dumbledore said. "Technically, he's of age, but only just."

Dumbledore's aged brow furrowed as he continued. "And his timing is too good and his origins too mysterious. He may be a spy for all we know."

"Well, interview him. No matter what you decide to do, talking to him can't do any harm," said an elderly female portrait.

"I suppose you're right," Dumbledore replied.

* * *

The room he was staying in was interesting, to say the least. The mirror talked, the fireplace never went out and the jug of water refilled itself every time he emptied it. Wizarding Britain was fascinating, but he wasn't sure he'd ever stay in the Leaky Cauldron again. The room, while comfortable, was a little too musty for his taste. And the pub below his room was even grimier.

Justin stared mournfully at his headphones before placing them in his pocket. Magic and technology didn't mesh. He hadn't been able to listen to his music for weeks. The whole mission was unpleasant though. He couldn't use his head phones, or his dune buggy or a good portion of his abilities (Unfortunately he was limited almost entirely to magic spells. He was only allowed to use his weapon abilities in case of an extreme emergency.), and what power he was allowed had to be channeled through a piece of wood.

He held the stick up in front of him and studied it again, despite the fact that he'd already done so on several occasions.

It was white, straight and measured about 13 inches long. One edge was covered in a slightly more metallic color which gave it an almost bladelike appearance. Connecting the handle to the rest of the wood was the DWMA's logo, Lord Death's mask. From what he understood, wizards and witches had some sort of core in their wands, but his was only a piece of wood.

Apparently the soul of the average witch and wizard was fairly weak so, in order to perform their form of magic, they had to have a source of energy to draw and amplify their wavelengths through - which had definitely made his job easier. Their dependence on their wands had resulted in techniques designed for people with souls so much weaker than his own, that, even though their magic was completely different to the way he normally used his soul to fight, mastering it hadn't taken long.

He did have to use the wand though. While weak, without a certain kind of soul, their magic was impossible to perform. Lord Death had done something to the wand that allowed him to mimic their abilities by channeling his own soul wavelengths into the wood. But, without it, he'd be completely incapable of using their magic.

Also, Lord Death had thought it would help him blend in with the locals.

Lord Death had suggested several other things he could have done to blend in better. But Justin had been reluctant to give up his clothing and, more specifically, his cross. He knew that walking around wearing a large cross with a skull imposed over the middle probably wasn't the best way to remain incognito, but the idea of not carrying it had been alarming to say the least. His whole outfit was a little ostentatious, but the wizards would just have to deal with it.

He pocketed the wand before sitting down on his knees. He wrapped both hands around his cross and bowed his head. A quiet prayer filled the room.

* * *

Awhile later, he stood up and brushed a thin layer of dust off his pants. Dirt happened to be another 'perk' of staying in the Leaky Cauldron.

Satisfied with his clothing, he stretched and rolled his shoulders to work out the stiffness that came from sitting on his knees for so long.

The mission involved a lot more waiting than he had expected. He'd taken two tests and then waited several days before he had actually gotten his results back to send with his application, which he'd submitted over a week ago. Overall just to apply for one job, it had taken him about a month of preparation. A week or so to brush up on the culture and magic itself, about a week and a half of taking tests, the next half of the week waiting for his results and a few more days to finalize and send his application. That, plus the past week he'd spent waiting for Dumbledore to get back to him was starting to add up.

It was kind of nice, being able to stay in one place so long. Being the Death Scythe in charge of Europe gave him a lot of responsibility and he usually was forced to remain constantly on the move in order to deal with the corrupted souls that appeared all over his jurisdiction. But, even though he appreciated the break, at the same time, he was getting a little restless. He'd been staying in the same hotel for a month and while exploring Diagon Alley had been interesting, the amount of time he'd wasted was troubling.

Lord Death had told him to completely prioritize his mission so he'd remained in Wizarding Britain as ordered. But being on assignment didn't mean that corrupted humans had stopped appearing. He couldn't help but think that he could have been out disposing of them while he'd been waiting.

The Death Scythe shook his head and mentally scolded himself for such disrespectful thoughts.

(It only took a month and he was already allowing doubt to enter his mind? It wasn't his place to question.)

A few minutes later, Justin finished stretching and moved towards the door. It was about nine in the morning, and breakfast was probably being served in the dining area.

He set his hand on the doorknob when a burst of light filled the room. Reacting almost instantly, he moved away from the door, his arms came up to defend his face, and his knees bent as one of his legs moved back to create a more balanced stance. His eyes scanned the room before landing on his bed.

Sitting on it was a bright, red bird holding a scroll in it's beak. Justin's position relaxed a bit.

"Are you Dumbledore's Phoenix?" he asked.

The bird blinked once before dropping the scroll on the floor. The Death Scythe walked towards it and picked the piece of paper up.

_Dear Mr. Law,_

_After reviewing your application, I'm pleased to say that you are more than qualified to take up the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'm interested in speaking further about your potential employment at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. If it is convenient for you, I would like to schedule an interview at noon tomorrow. I will send a representative from the school, to escort you to Hogwarts, around half past eleven, if you are available._

_Sincerely,_

_Headmaster Albus Dumbledore _

_Order of Merlin, First Class, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards, _

_Chf. Warlock, Grand Sorc., etc._

Justin read the note before turning to the phoenix. "Can you take a letter back?"

The bird bobbed its head and Justin assumed that meant yes. He walked to the small desk in the corner of the room and penned a quick note.

_Dear Headmaster Dumbledore:_

_Thank you for considering me for a position at Hogwarts. I am available to interview with you tomorrow. Currently, I am staying at the Leaky Cauldron. Unless you had another location in mind, I can meet your representative there._

_From,_

_Justin Law_

_DWMA-DS-European Branch_

Justin handed the note to the bird and it disappeared in a flash of fire.

He smiled. Maybe, he'd actually be able to start his mission now.

Soon, Voldemort would be eliminated.

* * *

**A/N: Justin's character is just fleshed out enough to give you an interesting foundation to work with and from there, pretty much everything is left to personal interpretation. So he's definitely a fun character to write about.**

**Anyways, apologies for any errors, grammar, cannon or otherwise. Reviews and Comments are always appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

Professor Mcgonagall glanced around at the Leaky Cauldron's shabby interior and wondered, not for the first time, if the pub was really the first thing people (especially muggleborns who were only just being introduced to wizarding society) entering Diagon Alley should see. Shaking her head, but realizing that the entrance probably wasn't going to be moving anytime soon, she walked up to the familiar barkeeper.

"Professor, how are you?" the Tom said as she approached, recognizing her from all the times she'd escorted new students into the Alley.

"I'm well, thank you," Mcgonagall replied. "And yourself?" she asked politely.

"Good, professor, I'm doing good," the barkeeper said as he picked up a dirty rag and started polishing a glass cup. "Can I get anything for you?"

"I'm sorry Tom, I'm only here to pick someone up," the professor said, smiling apologetically. "I don't suppose you know him, Justin Law?"

"Justin?" Tom asked, setting the cup down. "Why do you need to see him?"

"The Headmaster is considering him for the DADA position," Mcgonagall said.

"Really?" Tom replied, his eyebrows shooting up. "That kid?"

"You seem surprised," she said.

The bartender picked the cup up again and resumed polishing. Avoiding eye contact, he said, "I wouldn't have thought he'd be applying for a job at Hogwarts is all. He's very young."

"He's very young, and I'll admit I'm more than a little skeptical," Mcgonagall continued. "But the Headmaster has assured me that he's very qualified."

"It's more than just his age," Tom said, setting the glass down and picking up another. "But he's nice enough. I'm sure he'll do fine, even if he is a little strange."

"Strange?" she asked.

Tom stopped cleaning and looked at her before saying,"Don't get me wrong, he seems like a good kid. Been here a little over a month and I don't have a single complaint. He's neat, quiet, well mannered, pays on time, and hasn't bothered me for anything. But he's," the bartender shook his head. "There's no polite way to say it, he's a little different."

"How so?" Mcgonagall said.

"Well the way he dresses for one, trust me, you'll understand once you meet him," Tom paused and looked behind her.

"I suppose you can find out the rest for yourself, looks like he just came down."

She turned around and her eyebrows raised a bit.

Walking towards her was a blue eyed, young man in a black and gray ecclesiastical robe. His shoulders were wrapped in a white shawl and a zucchetto of the same color covered his head. Around his neck was a silver cross.

'The way he dresses indeed,' Mcgonagall thought to herself. Calling his choice in wardrobe "strange" was a bit of an understatement.

"Good morning Justin," the bartender said.

"Good morning Tom," the young man replied. His voice, while not necessarily high-pitched, was very boyish sounding, which only made him seem younger to Mcgonagall. Again, she found herself wondering if he really was as qualified as Dumbledore made him out to be. Even if he was, she wasn't sure if she believed he could handle a class of children the same age as him. Talent in a subject was one thing, but the ability to control and teach a group of teenagers - that was something else entirely.

She examined him further and couldn't help but notice that there seemed to be a skull resting on top of the boy's cross.

What on Earth?

It was already bizarre, seeing a religious wizard. After the rampant witch hunts in the middle ages most all magical people had pulled away from church. But the skull covering the cross made the outfit even more questionable. The white face was eerily reminiscent of the masks Death Eaters wore.

Tom's voice pulled her from her examinations, "This is Professor Mcgonagall, I think she's here for you."

"Did the Headmaster send you?" the boy asked, turning to look at her.

"He did," she replied. "I'm Deputy Headmistress Minerva Mcgonagall. I teach Transfigurations," she held her hand out for him to shake.

"Justin Law," he said, shaking her hand. "I apologize if I kept you waiting," he said, dropping his arm to his side and adopting a contrite expression.

"It's fine," the Deputy Headmistress said. "I haven't been here long."

The boy nodded his head in quiet acceptance and smiled at her.

"Should we be on our way then, Professor?" he asked.

"Indeed. Are you familiar with Floo?" she asked. "I'm not sure if they use it in America."

"I've never used it, but I know the basic theory behind it."

"It's not difficult," the professor replied, walking towards the fireplace. She reached into the container hanging near it and pulled out a small handful of silver powder. "Here, take a bit of this, throw it into the fire and say Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office."

He nodded.

* * *

His fireplace flared green and a boy dressed in black and white stumbled out. The boy straightened up and brushed some ash off his shawl. Obviously unfamiliar with floo then.

"Mr. Law?" the Headmaster asked.

The boy turned to look at him and Dumbledore couldn't help but be a little surprised at his appearance.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting from the applicant, but it definitely hadn't been someone so very religious looking.

And his eyes were the strangest color, almost purple.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," the boy said, holding his hand out to shake. "I'm Justin Law."

The Headmaster clasped his hand and shook it firmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you Justin."

The fire flared again and Minerva stepped out. She looked at both of them before turning to leave the room. The boy's voice stopped her.

"Thank you for taking the time to escort me here, Professor," Justin said, bowing his head lightly to her.

Well, if nothing else, the possible addition to the staff was very polite.

"Of course, it was no problem," Minerva replied. "Headmaster, Mr. Law, I'll leave you to your interview."

With that being said, she swept out of the room. The door closed behind her and the aged wizard gestured towards one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"Feel free to take a seat."

"Thank you," the boy said, sitting down.

The Headmaster studied him for a few seconds (the boy had bizarrely perfect posture for a teenager) before asking, "Why do you want to work at Hogwarts, Mr. Law?"

The boy's eyebrows furrowed and he frowned lightly. "I want to work here because there is a dangerous and newly resurrected dark wizard that needs to be put down."

Dumbledore's eyes widened minutely behind his glasses.

"You seem to be the only person actively acknowledging his existence," the boy continued. "So working at your school, and, by extension, with you, seems to make the most sense."

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand Mr. Law," Dumbledore said after a few moments of silence. His tone betrayed his shock. "What is it you hope to gain by working with me?"

"I want Voldemort dead," the boy said, as if it should be the most obvious thing in the world. "The sooner the better. I have more important things to be doing with my time than hunting down one corrupted soul. I figured that I'd be able to find him faster with your help."

Dumbledore stared at him, his expression almost unreadable even as surprise danced in his eyes.

Who was this boy?

"You came here to...kill Voldemort?" he asked. "That is a very," Dumbledore paused. "Lofty goal."

* * *

"What's he like Minerva?" Professor Sprout asked. "Do you think we have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

The other teachers in the lounge all paused what they were doing and listened in on the conversation. Yes, they were gossiping, yes, they knew it was juvenile, no, they didn't care.

"I don't think that I would hire him," Mcgonagall said. "But who knows what the Headmaster will decide to do."

"Did you and he not hit it off?" the other professor replied.

"We didn't talk long enough for me to formulate any real opinions about him," Mcgonagall said. "I'm sure he's likable enough, but I couldn't hire someone who's only seventeen to teach."

"He's only seventeen!?" Professor Flickwit asked.

"Indeed."

"Then there's no way he'll get the job," Sprout said.

"One would assume," Mcgonagall replied.

"Can you imagine how Severus would react is a seventeen year old boy was chosen to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? I mean, it's no secret he's petitioning for the Defense position himself," Flitwick said.

"He'd be furious," Mcgonagall said. "And I'm not sure I'd blame him."

"Perhaps for the boy's sake, it's better if he isn't hired," Sprout replied. "I'm not sure anyone could withstand the sort of ire our Potions Master would throw towards them if something like that happened."

"Term starts in two weeks though," Flitwick replied. "I'm sure the Headmaster is getting a little desperate."

"From what I understand," Mcgonagall said. "He either has to have a teacher by tomorrow, or the Ministry will send one of theirs."

"If that's the case, then we'd better be ready to welcome Mr. Law with open arms," Flitwick said. "The Ministry will never be allowed in Hogwarts."

* * *

"I'm afraid that I'm not quite sure what I should do, Mr. Law," Dumbledore said. "I need all the help I can get, but you're very young. Is joining a war really something you want to do?"

"I do whatever my Lord commands," Justin replied.

Dumbledore sighed inwardly. The boy had been extremely evasive towards every question he'd sent his way. Law refused to say what he could add to the war or why he was even interested in fighting in it.

_Because my Lord commands it._

_And who is this lord?_

_Though it pains me to say so, that is not relevant at this time. What matters is defeating Voldemort._

_And what makes you think that you'll be any help in doing so?_

_I have a very relevant skill set._

_And what would that be?_

_If you need to know, you'll be informed._

"Mr. Law, you're not doing a very good job of convincing me you truly want to help."

The boy paused, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him. He bowed his head lightly. "You're right and I apologize."

Dumbledore gazed at him, expression unreadable.

"I do care and I do want to help," Justin said. "It's been my purpose in life to serve my Lord for years now, and saving people from monsters like Voldemort is how I do so."

That had been sincere, the Headmaster could tell. But his curiosity wasn't satisfied. "As I said before, Mr. Law, I need all the people I can find. But I don't know you. What are your talents? What can you bring to the fight?"

The boy seemed almost a little self-righteous. He spoke as if his coming would be a huge turning point in the war and Dumbledore wanted to know why. Was it arrogance or confidence?

And, more importantly, was his, as of yet, unrevealed skill set really as helpful as he seemed to think it would be?

The boy stared at the Headmaster thoughtfully for a few seconds before nodding to himself.

"Do you know what it is the DWMA does, Headmaster?" Justin asked.

"I'm afraid that I do not," the Headmaster replied.

The boy's expression remained serious; he obviously wasn't surprised at the Headmaster's lack of knowledge.

He continued, "In order to enter the DWMA you have to have one of two very specific magical abilities, for now we'll call them Ability A and Ability B. When a student joins the academy they are paired with someone who possess the opposite ability, so a student with A will always be paired with a student who has B," Justin said. "Those two students will spend their entire schooling career together and their success is almost entirely based on how well the two work together, as the school's assignments are almost impossible to complete without both abilities available to them."

"Fascinating," Dumbledore said. "And what are these powers?"

The boy paused a few moments before saying, "At this point, I'm not allowed to divulge that information."

"At this point?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, once you've heard everything I have to say and we come to an agreement of sorts, the Headmaster of my school may be willing to speak to you. If He does, in fact, decide to contact you, He will decide what we will and will not tell you."

The Headmaster was intrigued.

It wasn't often that he found himself on this side of the conversation, that is to say, entirely out of the loop. The opportunity to learn more about the mysterious school was more than enough for him to be willing to hear the boy out.

"Very well, I understand. Please continue."

"Our school doesn't have set age groups, instead you are ranked, based on your abilities, with either one, two or three stars. Even teachers are ranked on this scale. Anyone with the right skill set can enter at any time, but none of us ever leave the school once we join."

"Never leave?" Dumbledore said.

"The DWMA is a lifelong commitment, we pledge our lives and souls to the service of our Headmaster."

That was a bit extreme and suddenly Dumbledore wondered if he should be concerned instead of intrigued. Still, he asked, "If that's the case, how did you graduate at the age of thirteen?"

"I've graduated from the curriculum," Justin said. "Not the school itself."

"Students attend class and go on missions for the school, but one of our main goals is the formation of a powerful weapon. The weapon has to meet specific qualifications and, as a result, creating one is a difficult and long process. Most people in the academy will never meet that goal, in fact, right now, only seven partnerships have managed to create one," here, the boy paused a few seconds before saying, "I'm the eighth and most recent student to create one. And I am the only person who's ever done it without a partner in the history of the school. I also hold the record for being the youngest person to create one."

Dumbledore stared at the boy as he processed the information. It was all so vague, but shocking at the same time. Forming a weapon? Dedicating one's soul? Was the DWMA a school or a cult?

"Sir?" the boy said, as Dumbledore's thoughts lead to the longest pause in the conversation so far.

Dumbledore shook his head and began talking, "Apologies Mr. Law. My mind was wandering."

It felt strange to be thrown so off guard. It wasn't often that something surprised him, let alone shocked him enough to render him entirely off balance.

"I understand," Justin replied. "Do you have any questions?"

"I'm sure that I will," Dumbledore said. "However, I don't think you're finished."

The boy nodded. "Alright, then I'll continue. At the DWMA we don't learn magic like you do and we don't learn what we learn just for knowledge's sake either. Every student who enters the Academy is there for one purpose, to destroy Corrupted Human souls that appear throughout the world."

"What does that mean?" Dumbledore asked.

"A Corrupted human is a human that has chosen to consume the souls of other humans. In doing so they can grow in power. But, at the same time, their own soul becomes twisted and warped. Eventually, they become something that isn't human at all."

The boy looked him straight in the eyes, "Tom Marvolo Riddle, alias, Lord Voldemort, is a corrupted soul. He has chosen to consume the souls of seven humans and formed seven of what your kind would call Horcruxes."

Dumbledore's eyes shut and he brought his hands up to rub his temples. "Then it is as I feared," he said.

"It's worse," Justin replied. "I don't think you truly know what a horcrux is."

Dumbledore's brow furrowed in concern, "I don't claim to be any sort of expert in the Dark Arts, but I believe that a horcrux is formed when a person chooses to murder another in cold blood? And then that leads to the soul fracturing?"

Justin's head was shaking before the Headmaster had even finished the explanation. "If only. Supposing his soul really had been split into several pieces, he'd be much weaker and that much easier to defeat. It's the soul that supplies magical energy after all."

"A horcrux is much worse than that. When a Horcrux is formed, the murderer attaches a small strand of their soul to the soul of their victim. Using that anchor, their soul seeps into the other soul and then begins to slowly take it over until, eventually, all the other person's spiritual and magical energy is completely converted to the Dark Wizard's use, which hugely increases their magical potential and makes it impossible to kill them until all of their extra reserves are destroyed."

"To put it simply, Voldemort has eight souls, so he has the magical power of eight people," the boy continued. "Luckily, I believe that Voldemort doesn't yet realize that and only sees his Horcruxes as a way to prolong his life, not increase his magical ability. However, should he realize that he has seven reserves of power sitting around, waiting to be used, he could become a serious threat."

The boy paused in his narration and regarded Dumbledore with a serious expression. "I believe that is why my Headmaster is so determined to have him destroyed as soon as possible. The longer we wait, the more time we give Voldemort to figure out that he's fighting at only 1/8th of his potential strength."

The Headmaster wanted to be skeptical. But this was the kind of information years of experience told him he couldn't ignore. If it was true, well, then it was also very alarming.

Could Voldemort really become that much more powerful?

"Mr. Law," Dumbledore said. "I think I believe you, but I must ask for more proof. Will you swear under an unbreakable oath that what you say is the truth? And that, if I bring you into my confidence, you will not betray me?"

It was the only solution he could come up with on such short notice. Perhaps a bit extreme, but also entirely necessary if he was going to start actively working with a complete stranger.

"I will swear that what I am telling the truth, and I will also swear to do everything in my power to help you defeat Voldemort. But, my loyalty lies elsewhere. I will not swear myself to your service," Law replied.

The Headmaster nodded. "Of course."

He pulled out his wand and paused. Was this really happening? It was such a surreal day.

He mentally shook the shock off. If anything, he should be grateful. It wasn't often that potentially powerful strangers showed up out of the blue wanting to help. He'd take that part of it at least as a good omen instead of something to be worried about.

"Hold out your arm Mr. Law."

They each clasped the other's forearm. A wave of Dumbledore's wand, and binding fire, completed the oath between Phoenix and Death.

Dumbledore smiled at Justin as the flames faded.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Professor."

* * *

**A/N: ****Thanks to everyone who reviewed, alerted and favorited! **


	3. Chapter 3

Dumbledore knew that his decision to hire Justin wouldn't be a popular one. But after forming an oath to help each other fight the war, the headmaster had tested the boy's magical ability and drilled him on how he was going to structure his lessons and everything had been more than acceptable. Justin was an extremely gifted wizard and Dumbledore didn't it find it hard to see why he was one of the most talented students at his home school.

Speaking of which, he still didn't know very much about the DWMA, but Justin had hinted that he'd get to learn more soon. It was all very mysterious, and Dumbledore wasn't sure he could agree with what little of the school's policies he'd learned of, but he decided to withhold judgement until he knew more.

As for Justin himself, well, the boy was odd. The way he dressed and his mannerisms, the complete - Dumbledore could only describe it as, adoration - he seemed to have towards his mysterious "lord" (Who Dumbledore was strongly beginning to suspect was the Headmaster of the boy's school.), and his knowledge of an obscure Dark Ritual, it was all very strange.

But the boy was talented and he had sworn to help. And Dumbledore really needed all the powerful allies he could get.

The headmaster reached into the candy bowl on his desk and pulled out a lemon drop and stared at it contemplatively.

It would be easy to ignore the boy's oddities.

Dumbledore popped the candy into his mouth and gazed around the room. The pulsing sound of rotating gears was present as always and three of his machines were shooting out bursts of colored smoke.

The headmaster smiled.

Because, yes, the boy was strange, but he didn't have any room to talk.

* * *

He'd never really been partial to magic before, but he was beginning to see how useful it could be in certain situations. Decorating his new classroom, for example.

His interview with Dumbledore had gone well and he was, officially, Hogwart's newest professor. As a result, he been given a classroom, an office and living quarters (a bedroom, a sitting area, a bathroom and a small kitchen) to do whatever he pleased with. His luggage at the Leaky Cauldron had been sent over and it had only taken a few flicks of his piece of wood to unpack it all.

Dumbledore had told him that he would be introduced to the other teachers at dinner, which was in a little less than an hour. So, rather than sit around, he was contemplating what he wanted to do with his classroom.

Considering the current political climate of Magical Britain, putting a giant picture of Lord Death's mask probably wasn't the best idea. The last thing he wanted to be accused of was being a Death Eater (It made him shudder every time he thought about them. What a completely blasphemous name!). But that didn't mean he couldn't design his classroom using a very DWMA theme. Decorating really wasn't something in his skill set so trusting his Lord's taste instead was the obvious solution.

Justin held his wand up and loosely in front of him. This was going to be the most difficult bit of spellwork he'd ever attempted, but it would also going to be a good opportunity to practice before his classes started.

He waved his wand, omitting any vocalization of spells (remembering all the words was much more difficult than just making magic happen) and the room instantly began changing.

The ceiling came first, shooting straight into the air, rising to at least twenty feet. A similar expansion was made on all sides of the room and tiers of benches and desks shot up. They folded themselves into a semi-circle, to form a slight curve around a raised platform with a desk and a chalkboard, which he planned to lecture off of. Black pillars rose around the edges of the room, reaching up to the ceiling in evenly spaced rows. Circular windows filled in the spaces between the pillars and a black and white checkerboard tile pattern snaked its way across the floor.

A few more flicks of his wand added some purely aesthetic details, candles lined the ends of the desks, some wood paneling fixed itself a third of the way up the wall, black crown molding lined the ceiling etc. Overall it was almost identical to his old classrooms at the DWMA. The only real difference was the size (it was a little smaller, only two tiers of desks instead of four) and that in place of the DWMA's logo, was the crest of Hogwarts, embossed into the wall just a little above the chalkboard.

He made a quick circuit around the room, looking it over for any flaws, but he was satisfied for the most part.

Less satisfactory was that fact that he'd procrastinated long enough. Dumbledore wanted to introduce him at dinner which, looking at the clock he'd conjured into existence, meant he needed to be outside the great hall in about ten minutes.

The urge to skip dinner was strong, he didn't particularly enjoy meeting new people, especially without his headphones. But he knew was going to have to get to know the rest of the staff eventually.

Better to get it over with as soon as possible or, at least, that's what he was going to keep telling himself.

* * *

During the summer, the professors sat around a circular table while eating as it made conversation easier. The Great Hall seemed empty without all the students but the break from the general mayhem that normally filled Hogwarts was appreciated.

It was almost dinner time and the teachers, all back from their own summer holidays, were beginning to filter into the room, but they took their time getting to their seats as they visited with each other. Quiet conversation filled the room.

The doors opened again and the headmaster walked in followed closely by a young man in a very strange outfit.

"Everyone, this is Professor Law, he'll be taking over the Defense Against the Dark Arts position," Dumbledore said.

"It's good to meet you all," the boy said, giving a short bow to the assembled crowd.

A few teachers mumbled replies but most of them were more concerned with scrutinizing their newest colleague. He was, very young, and the wasn't even the most noticeable thing about him. It was probably his outfit that took that prize.

Was this some sort of joke?

"Is this some sort of joke?" Snape obviously thought so.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean Severus," Dumbledore replied.

"You expect us to believe that you've hired some _boy_ to teach?" Snape said.

The other professors wouldn't have phrased it so bluntly, but a few found themselves nodding in agreement with the question.

"I do, because I have," he said. "I have every confidence in Professor Law's ability."

"What ability? He doesn't even look of age."

"I'm seventeen years old," the boy said. "I would apologize sir, but I don't know what I've done to offend you. That said, I hope we'll be able to work well together in the future."

"I'm sure you will," Dumbledore said giving Snape a pointed look. "Now then, why don't we all sit down and get to know each other a little better," the headmaster said, clapping twice. As he did so, food appeared on the table and the assembled professors began taking their seats.

They began piling food onto their plates and spoke quietly with their neighbors, but they all kept shooting the occasional glance at Justin, who was doing a very good job of appearing nonchalant about all the obvious attention.

Eventually everyone's plate was filled but the newest professor was ignoring his silverware in favor of his silver cross. He held it to his face and inclined his head minutely over it. His mouth moved in silent prayer for several minutes and the other Professors weren't quite sure whether or not it was polite for them to start eating.

For a solid three or four minutes they stared awkwardly around each other wondering what they were supposed to do before Law's eyes opened and he dropped the necklace.

He looked around at them and smiled. "I appreciate the courtesy, but please, don't feel obligated to wait on my behalf."

The professors nodded before beginning to eat. An awkward silence had descended on the room as the teachers contemplated their latest colleague.

Young and religious had not been something they'd expected out of the newest professor. Oddities aside though, they were interested in the boy and eventually, Professor Sprout broke the silence.

"Can you tell us a little about yourself, Professor Law?"

The boy set down his fork and smiled at her. "Of course, I'd be happy to. My full name is Justin Law, and, as you know, I'm seventeen years old."

Snape's lip curled into a sneer.

"My parents were both French, but I was adopted by an American couple when I was seven so I was schooled there," Justin said. And joining the DWMA had been the best thing to ever happen to him. His parents had died when he was six, and the people who adopted him had been...well he still didn't like to think about it. It was only after Death had found him that he'd started to feel safe again.

"Really? I never would have guessed," Professor Sprout replied. "Your accent is very American."

"French is my first language, and I suppose my first accent as a result, but I learned how to speak with an American one once I moved there," Justin said. He'd learned it to blend in better. A boy with a French accent was much easier to track than a boy with an American one and he'd spent a good portion of his younger life on the run. "It's just habit now."

"What school did you attend, Professor?" Flitwick asked, joining the conversation.

"I went to the DWMA," Justin said.

"You're joking!" Flitwick replied, incredulously.

"Not at all, I joined the school when I was eleven."

"Is that true?" Flitwick asked, turning towards Dumbledore.

"I'm inclined to believe him," Dumbledore said.

"That's, incredible really, I had no idea," Flitwick turned back to Justin. "You have to tell us about it. What does DWMA stand for? It is an acronym, right?"

All the teachers had paused their eating and were giving him expectant and interested looks. Justin realized that he was probably going to have to give them some information if he wanted to build any sort of rapport with them.

He was bad at this kind of thing. He'd always been a bit of a loner, keeping a group of people entertained was really not his cup of tea. But he was on a mission, so he'd have to swallow his discomfort and keep talking.

He smiled politely, (hopefully it didn't look as strained as it felt) and said, "It stands for Wizard and Meister Academy. The D is there for Academy, I honestly don't know why we don't call it WMA."

"Wizard and Meister?" Flitwick asked. "What does that mean?"

"I could ask the same about Hogwarts. Does the name have any special meaning? I haven't been able to figure it out," Justin replied.

Flitwick smiled excitedly. "Oh, now that's the mystery isn't it. No one knows actually."

The professor continued with his narration and even added some of his own speculation while Justin nodded politely along with him.

Inwardly, he was sighing with relief, but something told him that his break from the interrogation would be short-lived.

He had a lot of Q&amp;A sessions in his future.

* * *

**A/N: So Justin's back story and him being French are personal head-cannons. (His weapon form is a _guillotine_ after all.) It's not really relevant to this story but I decided to include it anyways.**

**As always, reviews are awesome and thanks to everyone who's added this story to their various subscription lists.**

**Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it and Happy Early Update to those who don't.**


	4. Chapter 4

42-42-564

The mirror glowed with light before an image of his Lord filled it. Justin had already fallen to his knees and bowed his head by time the image had fully formed.

"My Lord," Justin said. "It is, as always, a pleasure to speak to you."

"Howdy~, Justin!" the Lord of Death replied. "Stand up and tell me how it's goin'."

Justin complied with the order and stood up before saying, "All is well, sir. I've been hired to teach at Hogwarts and Dumbledore has agreed to work with me to track down Voldemort."

"Good~! Good~!" Lord Death said. "Any hiccups?"

"One of the professors seems to dislike me, but I doubt it will be a problem, sir."

"I'm sure your sparkling personality will win him over in no time," Lord Death said, flashing a large thumbs up.

Justin's cheeks grew red at the compliment and he fell to his knees. "Oh Lord! I am unworthy of such praise, truly Your benevolence knows no bounds, I am a merely a humble servant of Your will, all glory should be unto Your name, I-"

"Calm down Justin," Lord Death replied.

"Of course," Justin said, standing up. "Dumbledore is very eager to speak to you, but do you believe it is wise to allow him to do so?" Justin continued as if his outburst hadn't occurred.

Lord Death sweatdropped at the rapid change in the priest's attitude but replied, "Dumbledore is a very powerful leader for the Light. I think that he can be trusted to keep our secrets."

"Of course, sir. I trust your judgement completely. Shall I inform him of a time when you'll be able to speak with him?"

"Yes, that would be most appreciated."

* * *

Justin would have knocked, but the door flew open right as he raised his hand.

Standing in the doorway of the Headmaster's office was a man in a bowler cap, a few people in black robes and a strange...pink...thing...or maybe it was a person, he couldn't tell.

The group looked ready to exit so he nodded to them and moved out of their way. They began walking passed him when the pink thing stopped and turned to look at him.

It raised an eyebrow as it studied him. "And who might you be?" she (or at least the obnoxiously high-pitch voiced led him to assume it was a she) asked. "I didn't know there'd be any students here."

"Oh no. I'm not a student. I'm the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher," Justin held out his hand for her to shake. "Justin Law, at your service."

"You're a professor?" the pink woman replied, ignoring his hand. "How old are you?"

"I'm seventeen, I'll be eighteen within the year though."

"Barely of age then," she sniffed. "I see. Well I'm sure I don't need to remind you to stick to Ministry approved curriculum."

She paused and gave his outfit a quick once-over. "And you may also want to consider revising your wardrobe," she said with a look of disdain. "Good day, Professor."

"Not enough pink for you?" the Death Scythe replied.

"Excuse me?" the Pink-Thing said caustically, turning around to give him a dark look.

"The same to you Madam, I hope you have a good day," he said with a large smile and courteous nod of his head.

The woman looked unconvinced as she replied, "Hmph, yes I'm sure I will."

With that, she continued her descent down the staircase. Justin quirked an eyebrow before turning to enter into the Headmaster's office.

Dumbledore was staring past him. His expression was indignation and his eyes, wise, blue and still twinkling, were narrowed. (It was a little bizarre how Dumbledore's eyes allowed managed to sparkle, even when he looked mad.)

"Who is she?" Justin asked.

Dumbledore's irritated expression vanished almost instantly. "Ah Justin! Forgive me, I didn't see you. Have a seat."

"Thank you," Justin said before moving to sit down in one of chairs in front of the Headmaster's desk.

"She's Dolores Umbridge," Dumbledore said, answering Justin's previous question. "And, as of a few minutes ago, she became Hogwarts' Auditor of General Business."

"Auditor? That sounds ominous."

"It does nothing to inspire optimism at any rate. I'm sorry you had to be introduced to her so suddenly," Dumbledore continued. "I would have warned you first. She wanted your job so don't be too surprised if she goes out of her way to your time here difficult."

"She'd do that?" Justin asked. "That seems unprofessional."

"The Ministry isn't what is used to be," Dumbledore paused before shaking his head. "But I suppose that's a problem for another day. I'm assuming you're here for a reason."

"I am. You're expressed a desire to speak with my Headmaster," Justin said. "I've spoken with him recently and he has agreed to do so."

"Wonderful," Dumbledore said. "When and how?"

"If you are not busy," Justin said. "Right now."

"Excellent, that is more than fine."

"Good," Justin said. "All we need is a mirror. The larger the better."

Dumbledore nodded and conjured a large, and ornately carved, floor mirror. Justin stood up and walked over to it. The Defense Professor angled himself in front of the mirror, blocking Dumbledore's view, and then wrote something on it with his finger.

The boy stepped back as the mirror filled with blue ripples and white light.

"Yo~Wassup!" A high pitched voice filled the room before the mirror cleared.

As it did, Dumbledore was greeted by a very odd sight.

Standing in the mirror was a large, angular, black...shape wearing a white mask. It was more stylized and cartoonish looking then a Death Eater mask but the similarities were alarming.

"Oh Lord!" Justin said, falling to the ground and practically prostrating himself on it.

Dumbledore wasn't sure how to respond to that, but as he stared at the shape's mask, he realized that it was the same as the design on Justin's cross. Was the shape also wearing it for religious purposes? Although based on Justin's reaction, that didn't really make sense; did he actually worship the Headmaster of his school?

"We'll skip that today Justin," the black shape said.

Justin stood up immediately, "Yes sir."

He turned to Dumbledore, "Headmaster Dumbledore, this is the leader of the DWMA, Lord Death."

"Lord Death?" Dumbledore said, with a raised eyebrow and doubtful tone.

"Death personified, at your service," the shape replied. "Nice to meetcha'. If you don't mind, I'd like to skip the shocked incredulity and move straight on to business."

"I agree," Justin said. "How any could doubt your word is beyond me anyway."

"Good, then we have the majority vote," the black shape was practically bouncing in place and it's comically large hands were gesturing wildly. Dumbledore couldn't figure out how it was balancing on such a thin piece of fabric. "Let's move on to business."

"I think," Dumbledore said. "That a unanimous vote may be more appropriate, considering the circumstances."

"Oh~ya' think so?" the shape, claiming to be Death, said. "Hmm...alright then! What's your vote Headmaster Dumbledore?"

"While I hate to waste time," Dumbledore replied, "I can't help but be a little incredulous. Some explanation may be necessary before we move on to more important matters."

"Sounds tedious, but we got ta' do what we got ta' do," Death replied. "What are your questions?"

"I suppose the most obvious one would be what you mean by 'death personified'," Dumbledore said with a calm smile.

"And here I thought that one had the most obvious answer," Death replied. "Death Personified really isn't a great name though, sorta wordy. Let's see, I've also been called Grim Reaper, Shinigami, Jabru, Hades, Pluto, Nga, and lotsa other stuff too. But the most straightforward title in English would be the God of Death."

"God of Death?" Dumbledore asked.

"A most glorious and benevolent God," Justin said as his hands came to clasp his cross. "Truly, there is no one greater on this Earth, to be given the privilege of standing in His presence brings me unimaginable joy, I-"

"Justin," the Reaper said, cutting him off.

The Death Scythe dropped the cross and bowed his head. "Of course Lord, I apologize for interrupting."

"Justin here can be a little overzealous at times, but he is one of my most powerful students," Death said, addressing Dumbledore. "I'm sure he'll be a huge asset to your war if you work well with him."

Justin's face was glowing at the compliments from his Lord and he was having a hard time not falling to his knees and praising the Reaper profusely. Dumbledore, on the other hand, just looked inquisitive.

"Student?" Dumbledore asked. "I know that Justin has referred to you as Headmaster, but the," Dumbledore had to pause for a few seconds, "...God of Death...actually has proteges?"

"I have a school!" the Reaper said, waving his hands excitedly. "The DWMA, or Death Weapon Meister Academy, as the case may be, was created by me centuries ago."

"So it's not Wizard and Meister Academy?" Dumbledore asked, filing the centuries comment away for further thought.

"That would hardly be appropriate as my students aren't actually wizards," Lord Death said.

"Oh?" Dumbledore said. "Justin mentioned before that the DWMA teaches a different kind of magic."

"In a way, yes. Although magic really isn't the most accurate term," the Reaper held a single finger to his mask, which was actually managing to look thoughtful. "Hmm...well Justin's already told you that we reap corrupted souls, correct?"

"His verbiage was a little different," Dumbledore replied. "But yes, he has."

"Do you remember my explanation of the idea behind having a student with Ability A and Ability B?" Justin said, joining the conversation.

"I do."

"Well, a student with ability A is called a Meister. A student will ability B is called a Weapon," Justin said. "And when I say weapon, I literally mean weapon. Some students of the Academy have special bloodlines which allow them to transform from a human form to a weapon form. In some cases they'll be scythes, others guns or swords or anything really. There are several Weapons at the school and all have a unique Weapon form."

"Fascinating!" Dumbledore said. "And what about Meisters?"

"Meisters are the ones who wield the weapons they're partnered with," Death said, taking over the explanation. "It's a very deep partnership, as both Weapon and Meister have to trust each other completely. The two work together to hunt down corrupted souls and grow stronger. And with every soul they collect the more powerful they become."

"And eventually they are able to form a very powerful weapon?" Dumbledore asked, remembering Justin's previous explanation of the school. _(one of our main goals is the formation of a powerful weapon) _"Do you mean that the "powerful weapon", is actually a student?"

"Yes, that's correct," Justin said.

"When a partnership collects a certain amount of souls, then they create something known as a Death Scythe," the Reaper said. "A Death Scythe is a powerful weapon that has the ability to be wielded by me personally."

"Lord Death's soul is too powerful for Him to partner with a normal weapon. Death Scythes have stronger souls which makes it possible for them to withstand His soul wavelengths without having their own souls destroyed," Justin said.

"That being said, I only keep one Death Scythe with me at a time. The rest are in stationed in different continents and lead the Meisters and Weapons stationed in the area," Death said. "Justin is in charge of our European Branch."

Dumbledore turned to look at Justin with a shocked expression. "You're a Death Scythe?"

"The youngest one in Academy history," Death said. "He's also the only person to do it without a Meister partner too. It was extremely impressive really. Justin's a bit of a legend here at the Academy."

"Lord, I am unworthy of such praise," Justin said. "I only wanted to better serve."

As Dumbledore observed the two, he found it harder and harder to think of Justin as being only seventeen. He worked with teenagers on a regular basis, and none were that humble. It was mildly shocking, seeing someone so young be so devout.

"You're doing a fine job Jus-"

"Lord Death!"

The Reaper was cut off as a red-haired man ran into the room.

"Lord Death! We have an emergency!" the redhead said, as he put his hands on his knees and bent over to catch his breath.

"What?" Lord Death replied.

"I-" the red head paused and looked at the mirror. "You have call going-is that Justin?"

"Hello Spirit," Justin said.

"Hey Justin," the red head, Spirit, said. "I'm sorry, but I have to cut your call short. We have a serious problem here."

"Of course," Justin said. "Lord Death, we will most likely contact you later."

He bowed low as the image faded out.

Dumbledore sat down with a weary sigh. "The God of Death? Did I really just speak to the God of Death?"

"Yes," Justin said, straightening up. "You have been most blessed."

"I," Dumbledore shook his head. "It is a lot to take in Mr. Law."

"Is it?" Justin asked. "I would have assumed that someone carrying something of my Lord's would find the concept of a personified death easy to believe."

Dumbledore's eyes widened and he pulled his wand out of his pocket.

"You mean?"

"That wand is amazingly powerful," Justin said. "And it gives off an extremely potent aura that is very similar to my Lord's. I sensed it the first time I saw you."

He continued. "I would careful where you use that wand, Headmaster. To those who know what to look for, that wand is like a flare. It definitely has the potential to attract the attention of the wrong kind of people."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, there is a long and bloody history behind this wand."

"That does not surprise me at all," Justin said. "Anyways, I apologize that our call was cut short."

"More time to think about what I have learned isn't necessarily a bad thing in this case," the Headmaster replied. "It is no trouble."

"Then if you don't need anything else, I will leave you to your thoughts. If you have any questions please feel free to contact me. I'll most likely spend the rest of the day getting my lessons in order."

"Thank you, Professor. I wish you luck in your planning."

* * *

**A/N: The Ministry is here (and they're going to start making problems fast), Dumbledore and Justin both have an idea of what's going on and what to do next, and everyone else is in the dark. This chapter sort of marks the end of the exposition, aka, "The Boring Stuff". The next chapters are much more interesting.**

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, and an especially big thanks to Berlin and little puppy for reviewing every chapter.**


	5. Chapter 5

He'd been at Hogwarts for a little under two weeks. His classroom was set up. His lessons were planned, prepped and ridiculously over-prepared for.

He was waiting again. He was a little sick of waiting. This mission had more downtime than up and it made him shudder when he realized how behind he'd be on _everything _when it was over.

And even though he did everything he could to deny it to himself, he was a teenage boy, a fairly active, constantly on the move one at that and so he was bored, stir crazy and impatient for the world to _get on with it. _

Sure, Hogwarts was interesting to explore, but the DWMA was easily twice as large, making Hogwarts far less daunting in comparison. Another factor that contributed to the ease with which he could get around Hogwarts was his soul percept, which allowed him to pin-point anyone in the building. Those beacons made it even easier to find his way around. Hospital Wing - Madam Pomfrey's soul was a pale blue with a calm song that often stayed in a tower on the fourth floor. Dungeons - Professor Snape's music was deep and mournful and almost always underground. Quidditch Pitch - Madam Hooch had a very exuberant melody that spent a lot of time zipping around the grounds. Certain statues, pictures and other miscellaneous decor were also saturated with energy he could see and hear very easily, (Dumbledore's office was a very loud ball of brightly colored neon light) creating even more points with which to orientate himself.

But, while the majority of Hogwart's novelty had worn off, the library, which he was currently in, was somewhere he didn't mind spending his time. He'd rather be out purifying corrupted souls, he'd rather be out _working_, but reading had always been one of his favorite leisure activities.

He'd tried conjuring instruments to play and music to listen to, but magic just couldn't get it(the sound, the tone, the feel?) right, despite the number of times he'd tried during the past few weeks. On the other hand, books were books, magical or not, and Hogwart's library had a huge collection of books he'd never even heard of, let alone had the opportunity to read.

However, the book he was currently reading, _A Comprehensive Study of the Magical Society of England (1707; The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland) In Modern Times VOL XXIV: 1723-1764,_ was a little dry and he found himself glancing up and looking around the room, more than he was his book.

Bookshelves towered around him, all double and in some cases triple stacked with books. He smiled and couldn't help but think, not for the first time, that if he had a slightly less duty-driven life, he could probably cheerfully spend the rest of it in Hogwarts' library, provided he could get his headphones to work.

(Not that he'd want to change it. A life of books or a life spent in service to the Lord of Death? No contest, nothing could ever compare to that.)

Besides the bookshelves, there was also some randomly distributed furniture, mainly heavy wood tables and chairs, the occasional lamp, and thick curtains. The room was a little dark for somewhere people were expected to read in, but Justin could only assume that was to protect the books from sun and other light damage.

He'd met Madam Pince, and he could already tell that the safety of her books would mean more to her than the eyesight of any student ever would.

She'd actually been unwilling to even let him, a _professor_, near her books. (It probably had something about his outfit which, he was realizing more and more with every incident, was extremely off putting to most wizards.) She and he had formed a sort of shaky agreement though and they left each other alone for the most part. Occasionally she'd find an excuse to wander to his corner near the back of the library and give him suspicious glares but, most of the time, they were largely indifferent to each other.

Realizing that he was allowing his mind to wander again, Justin turned back to his book. He'd wanted to learn more about wizarding history and culture, he'd only been interacting with them for a few months after all, but he was beginning to think that a forty volume set of history textbooks might not have been the best way to go. He'd managed to get through about half of them, in between other things he'd been reading, but they were the epitome of stale and lifeless literature. How the author had managed to take some of the most influential events in the world, _add_ _magic_, and then have them be some of the most boring things he had ever read about, he didn't know. But somehow, it had been done.

He was determined to make his way through the series now that he'd already finished over half of them, but the idea was seeming less and less appealing.

"Professor Law?"

Justin looked up from his book again and around the room. A huge stack of books was floating towards him. The charms Professor was walking behind the stack with his wand held in front of him.

"Hello Professor Flitwick," Justin said.

"It's good to see you," the small Charms master said, with a smile. "I didn't expect anyone else to be in the library today."

"I've been spending a lot of time in here the past week or so."

"I'm glad to hear it," Flitwick said. "It's good to see a young person, such as yourself, enjoying books. May I join you for a little bit?"

"Feel free," Justin said, gesturing to the seat next to him. He picked up his wand, which had been lying on the table, and flicked it at the messy pile of books he had accumulated. The books floated up and hovered in the air for a little bit before forming themselves into a neat stack to the side of the table, leaving enough room for the charms Professor to set his own stack down.

"So Professor, are you reading with purpose or for pleasure?" Professor Flitwick asked.

"A bit of both," Justin replied. He turned the title of his book so that the other professor could see it. "I'm reading for fun, but am also trying to learn more about the history of magic here."

"Volume twenty-four?" Flitwick asked as he looked at the cover. "Have you read all the previous volumes too?"

"Yes," Justin said. "With some difficulty."

"I would expect so," Flitwick replied, sounding incredulous. "I haven't met anyone who's made it through the whole set or even through the first ten, to be honest."

The Professor continued, "they're charmed, you see," he said. "The entire set is layered with a variety of spells designed to make them hard to read. Distraction charms, notice-me-not spells, I think the author even invented a spell that creates a feeling of artificial boredom as soon as the books are opened."

"That seems bizarrely counterproductive," Justin said, adding his own incredulity to the conversation. "Why bother writing a book if you don't want people to read it?"

Flitwick laughed. "Because he didn't want people to read it, the author wanted people to buy it. He sold thousands of copies. Everyone, and I do mean everyone, in wizarding UK has a set. They were all the rage fifty or so years ago. Everyone wanted to be the one who finished all forty volumes. A few people got close, maybe a few people even finished it, although I don't know anyone personally who did. But even now that the 'fad' has faded so to speak, people still buy them because it's been universally accepted that everyone has to have a copy in their home."

"How strange," Justin said, shaking his head. Sometimes, it was hard, understanding magic-users.

"It ended up working out well for him in the end," the Charms professor smiled. "Anyways, ignore my babbling. I'll let you get back to your reading."

* * *

Reading was proving more and more difficult. He was less and less engaged with every turn of the page and, despite what the professor had said, he was very chatty, and didn't seem likely to let Justin 'get back to his reading' anytime soon.

That said, Justin didn't mind, as the Charms Professor was much more interesting than his book.

"I was quite the dueler in my day. That sort of thing if frowned upon now, but I certainly enjoyed it in my youth."

"I've never fought in a formal duel," Justin said. "At the DWMA, duels between students are common, and even encouraged by the teachers, but my reputation stopped anyone from challenging me."

Oh, he'd said a little too much there.

"Your school encourages dueling between students?" Flitwick asked.

"Very much," Justin replied. "It's a good way to gain real combat experience."

"Interesting," Flitwick said. "Hogwarts tried to start a dueling club a few years ago, but it didn't even make it through one meeting before the whole program collapsed."

"Hopefully that won't happen this year," Justin continued, "I was going to incorporate aspects of it into my class. There's no point in learning spells if you can't use them in a situation where you'd actually need them."

"That's fantastic, Professor," Flitwick said. "Dueling has long been a part of the Defense Against the Dark Arts program, it's only due to recent ministry intervention that it was stopped. I've never understood it myself, but I'm glad to hear that it will be brought back. If you need any help, let me know," the Charms Professor smiled, "It's been awhile, but I bet I could whip myself back into shape for a demonstration or two."

"I'd appreciate that, Professor Flitwick."

"Speaking of classes, I just remembered something I need to do to get ready for mine," Flitwick said. "I'll take my leave now, Professor."

"Thank you for your company," Justin replied.

"My pleasure," Flitwick said. "I've enjoyed talking to you. You're a very mature young man. I'll see in the Great Hall tonight."

* * *

Justin cast a quick spell and glowing numbers 5 2 and 7 appeared in front of him. 5:27 - Dinner wouldn't be served for another half hour or so, but he was looking for an excuse to stop reading about the history of England's magic anyways.

He stood up and flicked his wand. All the books he'd grabbed jumped back to their spots on the shelves. He watched them all return to their places and shook his head.

Magic was making him lazy, but he was having a hard time disliking the convenience of it.

He stood up and exited the library. The Death Scythe walked through a few halls and down several staircases before reaching the Great Hall. He entered the dining room and sat down at his spot, a few minutes later found the majority of the other teachers joining him around the table.

A few more minutes found him bowed over his plate and praying as the teachers around him courteously lowering their volume but not pausing as they had when he had first gotten there.

"Is prayer the norm for you at meals, _Mister_ Law?"

Justin stopped and looked up, a little surprised that someone had interrupted him.

Dolores Umbridge gazed smugly back at him from across the table.

Ah, that explained the omission of "Professor" in front of his name.

She was dressed in another pile of pink fur, and she had more rings on her fingers then she had digits. How she had even managed to wrap her fingers around the fork she was holding was something he'd never be able to figure out.

Pink and _rude_.

Probably two of his least favorite things in the world.

...but he wasn't the petty type, his answer was as cordial as ever.

"That's correct. I pray prior to every meal, and before I go to bed and after I wake up, and also whenever the urge strikes me. In fact, I haven't finished this one yet, but I would be happy to pick up this conversation afterwards."

"Oh, of course," she said, tone simpering and wide grin insincere. "I apologize for interrupting."

Sickeningly sarcastic, and completely girlish; her voice was beyond high pitched. It grated just a bit on his slightly heightened senses.

He bowed his head again.

"What religion do you practice?"

His head shot back up.

"I worship my Lord in my way," he said, after a few seconds pause. Had she really interrupted him again? "But I was raised Catholic, so I suppose some of that doctrine has bled over into my daily practice."

"And Catholic is a muggle religion?"

"The Roman Catholic Church, _Catholicism_," he gave her a look to make sure she caught the correction, "is very large. It does have a significantly larger percentage of muggles but it's not entirely exclusive."

"Ah, I see," Umbridge said.

Justin nodded and closed his eyes, meaning to return to his prayer.

"The reason why I ask, is because I question how appropriate your attire is."

His eyes flashed open.

"I mean, it is rather dreary, _deary_. And it may make some of the students uncomfortable. You may be, but not all of us are Catholicisms you know."

He stared at her incredulously. "Excuse me?"

"Well, surely I don't have to spell it out for you. I think that teachers should keep personal beliefs out of education. More specifically, I think you should wear something else while you're teaching here at Hogwarts."

He wasn't sure how to respond to that. So he didn't

Petty or not, two could play at blatantly ignoring common courtesy.

"Oh Lord, who dwelleth in the Holy City," he intoned, loudly. The rest of the teachers looked over at him in shock. "May thy name be kept true. As I go about this meal, oh Lord, I beseech thee. Bless it, that it may nourish and strengthen this body. This vessel is thine to command, a servant to do thy sacred work. Bless it with health, oh Lord, only so that it may better serve thee."

He continued in a similar vein for a solid twenty minutes, much to the astonishment of his fellow professors. As he prayed, his volume fluctuated, but after the start, remained quiet enough to not disturb the other teachers.

That said, the message was clear.

_Madam Umbridge, I really don't care._

She, on the other hand, was fuming at the obvious dismissal.

As he finished, she angrily snapped, "I am Hogwarts' Auditor," and then continued, her voice taking on a falsely saccharine tone. "So I do hope you'll be wearing something more professional, the next time I see you, _deary_."

The '_or_ _else'_ went unspoken.

* * *

"Can she do that?"

"His clothes aren't that bad."

"How rude of her."

"Can she do that?"

"How completely insensitive of her."

"I agree, completely inappropriate."

Justin sat quietly amongst the storm of conversation around him, arms folded, legs crossed, eyes closed and faced straight ahead.

Tuning it all out. Trying to, at least.

How...frustrating. He missed his headphones.

Too many people. Too much noise.

The subject matter of the noise was a little ironic though. The other Professors, coming to the defense of his clothes of all things. Considering how put off they seemed to be by them, it was interesting how ready they were to criticize Umbridge's own disapproval.

It made sense, he supposed. If she could censure him, she could censure all of them. They were looking out for themselves as much as they were him.

"Enough," Dumbledore said, officially getting the impromptu staff meeting (minus the newest member) started.

"Headmaster," Flitwick said. "Is she really allowed to regulate something like our wardrobes?"

"Officially no. She is only here to observe and suggest ways for us to improve," Dumbledore said.

"However, should she feel she is being ignored, then Madam Umbridge has the ability to appeal to the Minister and, with his backing, her suggestions could become code so to speak."

"So, if the Ministry gets involved, we have to listen," Snape said.

"Precisely."

"That's outrageous, what right does the Ministry have to tell us how we should run our school?" Professor Sprout said.

"Can't you do something, Albus?" Mcgonagall said.

"My hands are tied. I've done everything I can to prevent our Auditor's appointment."

"Ridiculous. The ministry is far overstepping its authority."

Justin's eyes remained closed. Politics. He wasn't here to get involved in politics of all things.

That said, it was becoming more and more apparent that Dumbledore's prediction, that Mme. Umbridge was going to go out of her way to make problems for him, was quickly proving true.

He was going to have to get involved, at least a little bit.

But, he was the head of the DWMA's European Branch. And Europe, being fairly large place, with a fairly diverse population, kept him on his toes. Loyal members of the DWMA or not, its branch members were still people and knowing how to keep everyone happy, with both him and each other, was just as much a part of his job as collecting malignant souls.

So, he knew how to play politics, even if he didn't particularly enjoy it, and, as far as he could see, he had a few options.

On one hand, if he refused Umbridge's suggestion/subtle threat, and she did kick up a fuss, it would set a precedent that would make it even easier for her to control him. If she appealed to the Minister and managed to make a decree about his clothes of all things, then she'd be able to regulate anything he did. On the other hand, if she backed down, then he would set his own precedent of not giving into her demands and she might give up after awhile.

And then there was option two. He could give up instead. Fighting over an outfit, of all things, was petty. He could change his clothes, in fact, Lord Death had even suggested he do so. But if he did, then he gave her instant but authority over him.

He didn't want his first major interaction with her to be a complete "Yes Ma'am."

He also didn't want to open any avenues for her to make his mission any more difficult. And he had more than himself to think about. This was her first action as an Auditor, period. How he responded would influence all of her decisions to come.

"Professor Law."

He opened his eyes and looked at Dumbledore.

"Headmaster."

"I'm curious to know what your opinion is on this."

Justin's arms stayed folded, but he learned forwards a little. "Changing my clothes would be inconvenient, but not the end of the world. It's the connotations behind doing so that worry me."

"I'm glad you're willing to be flexible, Professor," Dumbledore replied with a smile, but the grave nod he subtly sent with it confirmed that the Headmaster shared his concerns.

How much power could they afford to give this woman?

"I'll follow your lead, sir," Justin shrugged.

And really that was the only true option available to him. He was just going to have to trust Dumbledore. He was outside of his jurisdiction and a little outside of his knowledge base. Were they upset because Madam Umbridge was unfairly exerting Ministry power or because she had she had the audacity to even suggest she had that kind of authority? i.e Was he worrying over nothing, and could continue as he was, or did he have to listen and obey for the duration of his stay?

...

Well, no matter what happened, it wouldn't be the end of the world.

He had a _real_ mission. One self-righteous auditor wasn't a huge worry of his.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the wait. I had planned to upload this chapter a lot earlier, but real life has a way of getting in the way of my writing goals. Anyways, I have a question for those of you who live in the UK or know anything about it. Is Madam a fairly common form of address/title over there? We pretty much never use it in America, so I was curious. **


	6. Chapter 6

Students were steadily trickling in and Justin watched with a bit of aid from his soul percept. Hogwarts was supposedly very well warded, but the general pandemonium associated with having hundreds of people entering the school at once was exactly the sort of situation that would be easy for an enemy to abuse. Not that he really expected anything to happen. The war between Voldemort and the Order of the Phoenix was going on more in secret than anything else, but that didn't mean he was going to get in the habit of lowering his guard.

So far nothing of interest was happening. Wizarding souls were a bit strange to look at and even stranger to hear. The souls of magic users weren't super powerful at a single glance, but they all sort of rippled and the tune of their different musics always seemed a little offbeat. Which was a strange and mildly inaccurate description; he really wasn't quite sure what to make of them or how to explain it. There also didn't seem to be much difference in power between the students and teachers. Other than Dumbledore, whose soul was strong enough, loud enough, to be on par with some of the meister-weapon pairs he'd met (in fact, Justin was fairly certain that Dumbledore would have made an excellent meister if the DWMA had found him earlier in life), teachers and students seemed to have about the same amount of power available to them.

It was to be expected though, unlike the DWMA, which emphasized increasing the power of one's soul in order to increase physical, mental and spiritual strength, Hogwart's curriculum seemed more concerned with teaching techniques that fit into their pre-existing power limits. No one seemed interested in trying to surpass them. Or even aware of them for that matter.

It was an attitude that Justin hard a hard time understanding. It was like trying to fight with a wooden sword. You could be the best swordmaster in the world but, if you were limited by a weapon as weak as that, then no level of proficiency with it would save you from someone with a metal one.

It wasn't bad though, all things considering. Their powers were extremely versatile. If they had insanely powerful souls backing up the sort of flexibility and creativity their powers should allow them, then they really would have the potential to be huge threats.

Imagine if a killing curse could go from a beam of light to a mile-long wave of magic. Or an imperio that could affect an entire city. In reality, it was probably good that witches and wizards were so limited in their thinking. In fact, he didn't plan on doing anything to dissuade them from their current way of life during any of his time at Hogwarts. If that sort of information got back to Voldemort, the Dark Lord with seven times more power than he realized, then the consequences would be dire.

"Professor Law?"

Justin closed his eyes, shutting off his soul percept, and turned to Professor Flitwick.

"Yes, Professor?"

"Forgive me, this may sound mad, but were your eyes glowing just now?"

Oh, someone had noticed. That's what he got for displaying his powers so openly. He'd hoped the subtle glow wouldn't be too visible, but the charms Professor was sitting right next to him.

"Glowing?" Justin asked.

Sometimes the best answer was no answer at all. The silence grew for a few seconds before Flitwick decided to end it.

Flitwick shook his head. "No, never mind, it must have been a trick of the light."

"I suppose so. The majority of the lighting in the hall is candles."

Flitwick laughed. "That is very true."

"Are they enchanted to be resistant to melting, or is dripping wax vanished as it's created?" Justin asked.

"An excellent question, Professor. One that I'm not quite sure of the answer to."

"Well, fire has to have a fuel source to maintain itself," Justin said. "So one would assume that the wax is charmed to disappear as it melts. On the other hand, they could be a magically sustained flames and the candles just for aesthetic effect. That would be harder to maintain than a vanishing spell, but would reduce the need for huge amounts of new candles every night."

Flitwick smiled widely and added a few of his own ideas to Justin's theories.

"I'm using candles in my classroom," Justin said, by way of explanation for the turn in conversation. "But I'm not sure what the most practical way to enchant them is."

"Do keep me in the loop, Professor," Flitwick replied. "I'll be interested to know what you come up with," he paused for a few seconds as the door opened up fully and a stream of black robed first-years poured in.

They all formed into a sort of nervously vibrating clump. Whether they were shaking from fear or excitement, he didn't know, but the Charm and Defense teachers watched on with interest.

"I hate to sound biased," Flitwick smiled. "But hopefully we'll have a good batch of Ravenclaws this year."

He turned then to look at the students. Justin took the opportunity to scan their souls. His eyes flashed for little more than a second before returning back to their natural color.

Nothing out of the ordinary, except for, his eyes resumed glowing.

Was there a soul in that hat?

His eyes widened.

It was slowly coming to life, folds in the fabric were becoming the distinct shape of a face and it was sitting a little straighter. Then something even stranger happened. It opened its newly formed mouth and began singing.

Justin's eyes faded but his expression remained amazed.

How had they managed to get a soul into a hat? Was it a Weapon? He hadn't heard of anyone who had a hat as their weapon form, but it was the only explanation he could come up with.

"Interesting," Flitwick said, after the Sorting Hat finished its song. "It's never done that before."

"Sung?" Justin asked.

"Hmm, oh no, it sings every year," Flitwick said. "It's never issued a warning though. At least not since I've been here."

Justin hadn't even heard the lyrics. He'd been too fascinated by the hat's soul. He turned away from the Professor and had to put conscience effort into not jumping into a defensive and/or combat ready position when a loud,

"RAVENCLAW!"

was called out.

"How exciting," Flitwick said, clapping enthusiastically. "My house gets the first student of the year."

Justin nodded, a little wearily.

Wizards were so strange.

* * *

Harry was excited. It was his first real start of term feast in three years. Sure, he'd been here last year too, but the arrival of the foreign schools Beauxbatons and Durmstrang had taken some what from the purely Hogwarts atmosphere. The two years prior to that he'd missed it entirely (see house elves and dementors respectively).

The Sorting Ceremony was over, and the food was present, but Harry found himself scanning the staff table rather than eating.

"What's she doing here?"

"Who?" Ron asked, mouth stuffed full.

"The woman in pink. She was at my hearing. Umbridge, or something like that."

"Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?" Hermione offered. "She's the only new face who fits the position."

"What about the blonde guy?" Ron asked.

"Where?" Harry asked.

"He's at the end of the table," Hermione said. "Odd, don't new staff always sit in the same general area? He's about as far from that Umbridge lady as possible."

Harry followed her gaze down the staff table and took in one of the newer additions to Hogwarts.

He was too far away for Harry to really tell what he looked like. From a distance though, Harry could tell that his clothes were dark, skin was pale, hair blond, and he was fairly certain he could see a glimmer of silver around the blond's neck, although he wasn't entirely positive on that count.

"'E loo' 'eealy 'ung."

Hermione gave Ron a slightly disgusted look. He colored lightly and swallowed.

"Sorry, I said that he looks really young."

"He might be an apprentice," Hermione said. "One of the teachers is probably mentoring him. That would explain why he isn't sitting with the woman in pink, he's not staff. Who is he sitting by?"

"Professor Flitwick," Harry said.

"Probably a charms mastery then," Hermione said. "Good for him."

"Too much work," Ron said. "There's no way someone that young is working towards a mastery."

"Just because you have no motivation doesn't mean other people don't. Honestly Ron-"

Harry tuned them out a little, no point in getting involved in another one of their arguments.

* * *

The Great Hall really was impressive. He hadn't truly appreciated the size of it until it was full of people. And now that everyone was sitting down and eating, he was beginning to realize just how many people there were.

Every single one of them would be taking his class. It was actually a little intimidating to think about.

The sheer amount of food was a little intimidating too. But even more so was the sheer amount of food some of the teenagers in the room were managing to inhale. One of the boys at the Gryffindor table was working on his fifth plate.

He was more prone to random bouts of fasting, rather than periods of extreme indulgence, if anything. Marie was always saying that he was too thin...but even she would probably be disgusted if he decided to eat that much in one sitting.

"Oh, I think the Headmaster is going to speak," Flitwick said, setting down his silverware.

Justin turned his attention to the Headmaster, rather than the mildly horrifying eating habits of his soon-to-be students, as he spoke. For the most part, the information was all familiar but he kept an ear open just in case (he was a little interested in the Forbidden Forest, he hadn't realized the title was literal).

"I hope you'll all join me in welcoming two of our newest staff members, Professor Law-"

Justin stood up and gave a short wave.

"-our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was a smattering of polite applause, a few whispers and a lot of surprise. But it died out pretty quickly. A new Defense teacher was old news after all.

"I hope you will all enjoy learning from him. His classes will be _very_ interesting."

"What does that mean?" Hermione mumbled, as he sat back down.

"Also joining us, Madam Umbridge from our friends at the Ministry. She is the first every Hogwarts Auditor of General Business. I hope you will all wel-"

"Hem. Hem."

Justin sat up a little straighter and his eyes narrowed just a bit. What was she up to?

"How wonderful it is to see all your smiling faces!" the new Auditor screeched.

The whole of Hogwarts seemed less 'smiley' and more stunned, but the witch kept on talking as if nothing had changed.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of a vital importance," she said.

Flitwick scoffed, almost unnoticeabley, and mumbled something less that complementary under his breath.

"And although each headmaster has brought something new to this historic school, progress for the sake of progress must be _discouraged_! Let us preserve what must be preserved, perfect what can be perfected and prune practices that ought to be _prohibited_!"

She made a few more comments before sitting down. The Defense professor's expression was stony and it was mirrored by the vast majority his colleagues.

"Thank you Madam," Dumbledore said, standing up and speaking as she finished. "That was most _illuminating_."

His expression was twinkling and unconcerned, but Justin could see a sort of tenseness in his shoulders that he probably wouldn't have recognized if he hadn't spent so much time around the man lately.

Not good then. The ministry was shaping up to be a bigger and bigger problem it seemed.

But really, that wasn't too surprising at this point.

* * *

**A/N: Soul Eater cannon is so murky, I'm not sure if soul perception has an actual glow, or if that's just a device used to show the viewer that a character is using it. Oh well. I guess that's one of the joys of fanfiction - you can do whatever you want.**

**Review please!**


	7. Chapter 7

Justin was halfway out of bed before it had fully materialized.

His feet hit the floor and he pointed his wand (not his blades - he was getting better at the whole magic shtick) at the...well actually, he didn't know what it was, but it had appeared spontaneously in his bedroom with a rather loud crack.

It was small, wrinkly, had large green eyes and was wearing a strange hybrid of a pillowcase and robe, with the crest of Hogwarts on it. Probably not a threat, maybe even an ally, but he kept his wand leveled at it, just to be sure.

"Good morning, Professor Law," it, or she, as her voice revealed, bowed. "I am Drippy, the house-elf assigned to your rooms."

"House-elf?" Justin asked.

"Yes, master. Drippy does all the cleaning and keeps the fire going."

Ah, that explained a lot. Justin had assumed that everything was enchanted to clean itself, or something of that nature, but having a cleaning staff around made a lot more sense. Charming every bed to make itself and every flat surface to dust itself hadn't seemed very practical to him.

He nodded at her and lowered his wand. "Thank you, then. I appreciate you tidying up the place. I'll make sure to do a better job of it myself."

The house-elf's eyes widened and she bowed low. "No, sir. Cleaning is Drippy's job not yours."

The elf looked visibly distressed so Justin lifted up a hand to placate her. "Right, then I'll do my best not to get in your way."

That didn't seem to do much. If anything, she looked even more unhappy.

Social interactions - so draining. Justin really didn't know what to say to make her less upset.

An awkward silence floated about the room for a few moments before the elf decided to break it.

"Headmaster Dumbledore is wanting to see you before breakfast. That's why Drippy is here."

Justin nodded. "Thank you."

The house elf bowed once more and disappeared with another sharp crack.

Justin resisted the urge to sigh. House elves, another item to add to his research list.

* * *

Justin gave himself a quick once-over in the mirror. The house-elf had caught him in not much more than an oversized white shirt and a pair of black shorts. He hoped to look a little more presentable for his meeting with the Headmaster.

Overall, he counted himself dissatisfied. His normal livery was gone, replaced by a dark gray button down shirt tucked into black pants. Dark gloves, dress shoes, and a black tie, belt and pinstriped vest accented the look. There were also two white cross designs going up the side of his sleeves, but that was sort of unavoidable. They were a part of his weapon form and, since he'd become a Death Scythe, they appeared on his clothes whether he wanted them to or not. They, plus the silver cross he normally wore, (which he refused to omit from his wardrobe) were the only remnants of his usual clothes. So, for the most part, the outfit was fairly neutral but somewhat muggle - he'd gotten some odd looks at dinner the night before.

Magic was proving to be continually useful though, and he had already come up with a solution to that problem. A quick spell invoked over his shawl turned it into a sleeveless black robe that went just a little past his knees. He left it open over his outfit and glanced into the mirror.

He shook his head. Well, if he was going for the accountant-in-a-bathrobe look, he'd passed with flying colors.

* * *

The hallways were almost silent. It was fairly early in the morning, even the pictures were still asleep.

But the Defense Professor was fairly alert, despite the hour. He was used to waking up early, even if not quite as early as it was and waking up because of a possible attack was enough to leave him wired for the rest of the day. Next time that house-elf showed up, he'd have to ask it to apparate somewhere outside of his bedroom.

He approached the gargoyle that stood sentinel over Dumbledore's office and whispered the password to it.

"Sugar Quills!"

Well, whisper was a slight exaggeration and several portraits jolted awake at Justin's slightly skewed interpretation of one. The gargoyle's eyes also shot open and it gave him a look that was equal parts irritation and drowsiness.

"Go on up, kid," it yawned. "And try to come at a more reasonable hour next time."

With that said, the entryway opened and the gargoyle promptly fell back asleep. Justin half walked and half allowed the rotating stairs to carry him up to the office. The doors opened immediately to let him in as he reached them and he wasted no time in walking through them and into the office proper.

"Good morning, Headmaster," Justin said.

"Good morning, Professor," Dumbledore said, gesturing for the Death Scythe to take a seat. "I'm sorry for bringing you here so early and on such short notice."

"I'm sure you have a good reason," Justin said.

"It's not good news, but I suppose it is reason enough," Dumbledore replied. "It's better if we keep our meetings secret. I don't know how much of what's going on at Hogwarts is being monitored by the Ministry, but I prefer to err on the side of caution, despite the early hours doing so requires."

Justin nodded.

"Also, while I know you and your Headmaster communicate via mirrors, I would still be wary when doing so. And avoid the post and floo network entirely if you can. In general you and I both need to be careful when we have outgoing, sensitive information."

"Why is the Ministry of Magic so paranoid?" Justin said. "Even if you're completely wrong, and Voldemort is dead, is your being prepared for the worst really such a big threat to them?"

"The Minister thinks I want his job," Dumbledore said. "Nothing could be further from the truth, I've turned the position down on numerous occasions and I will continue to do so for whatever amount of time I have left in this world. But that doesn't stop Fudge from thinking differently. He believes that I am purposefully stirring up paranoia to make him look incompetent."

Dumbledore sighed. "And because he is scared. No one wants to believe Voldemort is back, so they don't. The fact that he has a convenient reason to think I'm lying makes it easier for him to be ignorant. But, enough about that."

"I've had some time to think about everything you've told me," Dumbledore said. "And I believe, that at this point, the most important thing for us to do is destroy Tom's horcruxes."

"I agree," Justin said.

"The trick will be finding them, destroying them afterwards should be fairly straight-forward."

"I have people in my division who specialize in tracking objects like Horcruxes. I could assign a team to hunt them down for us."

Dumbledore smiled. This was why talking to the Defense Professor was so refreshing, for lack of a better word. He wasn't just speaking to a seventeen year old boy, he was talking to another leader, someone who had actually come with something to add to the fight. He wasn't someone who was looking to Dumbledore to solve all his problems. He came fully with the intention to work _with_ him, not _for_ him.

Dumbledore had been peerless for so long. Keeping himself as a distant and all-powerful leader just for the sake of maintaining hope among his followers (_as long as we have Dumbledore, we have a chance) _was exhausting_._ But the boy wasn't a part of their world. He didn't have preconceived notions and he didn't expect the Headmaster to be perfect.

He had his own resources, his own allies and his own abilities. Dumbledore was just a piece of the boy's puzzle, not the keystone holding it together.

It really did take a load off the elder's shoulders. He didn't have to worry about giving an unpopular order or vocalizing an opinion that might lower the morale of the whole room. In a meeting like this, the two of them could just...talk.

"Do you trust them to do so discreetly?" Dumbledore asked. "If Voldemort were to find out that we're hunting his Horcruxes down, he'd put that much more effort into keeping them away from us."

"The DWMA has remained a relative unknown in your world for years. I can't imagine a situation where Voldemort would either suspect or discover our movements," Justin said. "However, I do agree with you, the element of surprise is our ally right now. The less people involved the better."

He continued. "But one team shouldn't draw any attention. I have a weapon-meister pair in mind, they're very good at what they do."

Dumbledore nodded. "I'll defer to your judgement then, Professor Law."

And really, how often did he get to say that?

"What will you be doing on your end?" Justin asked.

"I knew Tom when he was a child. I have some theories as to where his horcruxes may be based on past experience with him."

"We should discuss those at length some time so that I can pass along any relevant information. I don't suppose you have anything of his? A keepsake of any sort? It might help."

"I have something better," Dumbledore said, opening his desk.

He pulled out a black book with a gaping hole through the center and let it fall onto his desk with a harsh thump.

Justin recoiled from the thing almost instantly. The sheer _wrongness_ of it rolled off the book in waves.

"You," Justin visibly forced himself to relax as he looked at the Headmaster. "Have one of his horcruxes."

Dumbledore looked surprised. "You're able to recognize it so easily?"

"It hurts to look at," Justin said, glancing at the thing before turning away rapidly. "It's worse to listen to." He placed his hands over his ears before setting them back down at his side.

He _needed_ his headphones. His soul-percept focused more on what he could hear than what he could see. It's why he surrounded himself with his own music and why he played it so loud. It was the only way to get away from all the other noise.

But he'd been around a lot of different music lately, this mission was the longest he'd gone without his headphones in years. And he had started to wonder why he was so desperate to tune it out.

Listening to the Horcruxe's song, Justin remembered. Not every song was pleasant. Some were so twisted, they were painful to hear.

"Are you alright?" Dumbledore asked, standing out of his seat and extending a hand as if it was supposed to offer some sort of assistance to the Death Scythe.

"Fine," Justin said, resisting the urge to cover his ears again. "I'm fine."

The horcruxe's song was an echo, a black, writhing, grotesque and screeching echo. Souls weren't meant to be torn and souls weren't meant to be polluted by another. Both the fragment of Voldemort's soul and the soul of his victim were screaming, distantly though. Like they were at the end of a tunnel. It was an afterimage, not even a true horcrux, but still wrong, still horrible and still harsh on both his senses and even his own soul.

His resolve to kill Voldemort grew. Someone willing to create something that _disgusting_ couldn't be anything but evil.

He shuddered. "That's perfect. One look at that and anyone with a soul percept could find the others."

"And you have that ability?" Dumbledore asked, still standing and brow furrowed with concern for the young professor.

"I do," Justin replied.

"Then test a hypothesis for me," Dumbledore said. "I have long thought that Tom may have hid a horcrux in this very school. You may not have sensed it, as I'm sure he did much to hide it from prying eyes, but now that you're familiar with it-"

"I may be able to find it."

"Exactly."

* * *

Justin set the destroyed diary in the multi-dimensional chest he had bought in Diagon Alley. The horcrux was wrapped in his robe-he had absolutely refused to touch the thing-and he planned to deliver it to his allies during the next Hogsmeade visit.

He closed the trunk and, much to his relief, the Horcruxe's song vanished entirely. It really was just a faded shadow of a true Horcrux. Something as simple as the wood of Dumbledore's desk or his trunk was enough to hide its presence.

He grabbed the dial on the front of it and turned it to another setting and opened the chest back up. He reached into it, pulled out a shawl and transfigured it into another robe, before closing the trunk again. The death scythe set the black fabric around his shoulders and readjusted his cross before letting his hands fall to his side.

It was going to be his first day of teaching.

Maybe he'd skip breakfast. He wasn't sure he'd be able to hold anything down.

* * *

It wasn't necessarily nerves, that is, their newest teacher didn't look nervous.

Uncomfortable?

That was probably a better word.

It made sense though, it probably wasn't comfortable to be a Soul Eater surrounded by witches. From what she understood, the soul of a witch was their meal of choice.

She had to admit that Professor Law's willpower was fairly impressive.

His classroom was too. It reminded her a bit of muggle lecture halls, but with quite a bit more flair. The tall ceilings and windows were a nice touch, natural light was good for keeping nargles away.

Luna Lovegood stared dreamily as the rest of the class filed into the room. (More accurately, as the Gryffindors did. The Ravenclaws had all been seated at least five minutes before the bell had rung.) She wasn't naturally inclined towards impatience, but a hint of it was eating at her anyways.

She was interested. Hogwarts was infinitely more progressive in its thinking than the Ministry, but even so, she was surprised that Dumbledore would allow something so _dangerous_ into the school.

Although thinking back to Cerberus and Dragons and Dementors and Boggarts...maybe it wasn't as exciting of a development as she had initially assumed.

How had he even found one though? Soul Eaters were fairly elusive and extremely powerful.

But, Professor Law looked rather young. Maybe he wasn't as experienced at hiding as the rest of his race?

She wondered if he'd be willing to do an interview for the Quibbler. "Vegetarianism - Good for the Soul" had an ironic ring to it she could appreciate. Of course, that was assuming he had given up eating souls at all.

...She'd keep the idea in mind at any rate.

The last of the students found their seats and the class's attitude was expectant as they regarded their new teacher.

"Good Morning, Students!" Justin said.

The class winced, and a few students who had been dozing in their seats jerked awake.

Well, if nothing else, their newest teacher was very loud.

Justin immediately modulated his volume. Right, the room wasn't that big. No reason to shout.

"I'm Professor Law and I'll be your Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor for the rest of the year."

So that settled it. A few of the students had been clinging on to the hope that Dumbledore was playing a joke on them.

Because really? He looked way too young to be any sort of qualified.

The Ravenclaws, especially, were a bit indignant. They had OWLs next year. They had finals this year! They actually wanted to learn the subject and they expected their Professors to be just that, a Professor, not a warm body to fill a position Dumbledore had such a hard time with.

"My parents told me that they'd get me a Defense tutor over the summer," a girl said quietly to the one sitting next to her. "I bet they'd let you come too."

"I think we're going to need it," the other whispered back.

Whispering or not though, Justin easily read their lips.

He'd jump right into the lesson then. If they had time to talk, they had time to learn.

"Everyone, line up in the front of the room please. Bring your wands."

The class gave each other confused looks but followed the order.

Justin pulled out his own wand as the last of the students filed to the front. He waved it once and the tiered chairs folded into themselves and back up against the walls. As they reached the walls, the walls themselves instantly stretched back and straightened out, turning the room into a long rectangle instead of a semi-circle. A row of targets, each with one of their names floating above it, appeared at the far-end of the stretched out side.

"Stand in front of the target with your name," their teacher instructed.

The students did so, their mental impression of their teacher raising.

That had been a fairly impressive bit of transfiguration. And without an incantation too. It was actually _really_ impressive.

"Maybe he's not a quack," one of the Gryffindors mumbled.

"I'm going to call out spells. Cast them at the target with your name. You will be graded on accuracy, speed and power."

"Wait!? Graded!" One of the Ravenclaws called out. "Professo-"

"Begin. Stupefy."

"Wait, wha-"

"Incendio."

"Babble."

"Avis."

"Defodio."

"Conjunctivitis."

"Petrificus Totalus."

Very quickly the students realized that the Professor wasn't going to slow down or explain what was going on and they set themselves to speed casting.

Each time one of them hit the target a series of three glowing numbers appeared over it. They disappeared quickly though and their teacher was listing spells too fast for them to concentrate on anything but casting.

Justin, on the other hand, watched with rapt interest. This was pre-test to give him a gauge of his student's ability range. It was also practice for them. What they probably didn't realize was that it was also practice for _him_.

He was committing spells to memory, and the techniques used to do them most correctly. His brain was rapid-fire processing, technique, stats, effects, anything that would improve his own spell casting. Stupefy, highest class in the score, 1.2, 3.1, 2.43. Legs apart, add a flick before casting, red sparks, stun. Repeat.

He'd only been doing magic for a little under two months after all, and he'd been doing so without any practical reference points. This was an opportunity to see a huge amounts of formal, educated, "proper", spellcasting, rather than the semi-bastardized version he'd been teaching himself from books.

"What the-!"

Justin stopped for a second and looked at the student who had yelled out. The boy, a blond-haired Gryffindor, Colin Creevey, according to the glowing letters (Names - another thing this exercise was helping him memorize), was staring angrily at his target, which had begun bouncing up and down.

"An enemy isn't going to stand still when you attack," Justin said. "Reducto."

Over three fourths of the class reacted in time to cast the spell. A huge step up from the only one or two who had at the beginning of class.

(Learning already, he was so proud.)

A few more minutes and many more spells added another obstacle for his students to contend with.

"Oww!"

Creevey again. He was quickly shaping up to be the loudest kid in the class.

"It's a mild stinging hex, Mr. Creevey, not the cruciatus. Enemies can and will shoot back in real life. Defend yourself or dodge. Rictusempra."

The stats on the targets dropped steadily lower. The targets danced around, beams of light forced his students to stop mid-cast and throw up a shield. More often than not, he was calling out spells they hadn't even heard of.

And he realized that some of them were spent - endurance was something they'd have to work on. He'd way overestimated their power levels.

"Stop."

A few students instantly collapsed on the ground. Justin wasn't sure whether to feel guilty (he hadn't meant to _completely_ exhaust them) or incredulous (students at the DWMA could have gone much longer and in much harsher conditions).

He had planned to do a lecture of some sort, to explain the whats and whys of what they'd been doing, but he'd release them early instead. An extra thirty minutes or so would probably be enough time to recover for their next class.

"Good work, everyone," Justin said. "You're dismissed. Considering eating some chocolate," he waved his wand and a bowl of brightly wrapped candies appeared on his desk. "And resting before your next lesson. It'll help with any magical exhaustion you might be feeling right now."

The classroom rearranged itself back into it's normal form with another flick of their Professor's wand (Did he ever incant?) and the class filed out quietly.

Most of them were too tired to talk much but several of them exchanged smiles.

Candy and casting - did it get any better?

* * *

**A/N: Lot's o' Headcannons in this one. Biggest I suppose is in regards to Justin's soul percept. Basic idea - Justin's soul percept is musically based and extremely sensitive. His headphones help drown out the noise when there's too many people to mute it entirely or when he encounters something powerful enough, loud enough, to make it too distracting for the rest of his senses to function properly. **

**On another note, I'm looking for ideas. I have the whole of this story planned out, but I have a few scenes labeled as "Interlude Type Stuff" that are a little more murky than others. So, if there's anything not strictly plot relevant that you'd still like to see, Justin tutoring people, a group of seventh years fangirling over him (and totally freaking him out), perspectives from people at the DWMA, etc. leave a review and let me know, and there's a good chance I'll include it.**

**Also, I'm in the market for a beta. Not necessarily an editor, but someone I can bounce ideas off. I'm more interested in someone who's interested in plot rather than grammar and writing style. The first thing I'll probably have you do is read all my outlines and pre-written stuff so be prepared for a lot of spoilers. If you're interested send me a PM and I'll let you know a little more concretely what I'm looking for.**

**I feel like Justin's lessons are what everyone wants to read about, so I hope his first one lived up to everyone's expectations. Up next is the Trio and the Slytherins. Stay tuned and review please! **


	8. Chapter 8

"He's a sadist. An awesome sadist."

"Who?" Ron asked.

"Professor Law," Ginny replied, dropping a scoop of mashed-potatoes on her plate. "His class was great, but I'm dying." She stared at the spoon for a few seconds before adding another scoop to her growing pile of food.

She was starving. She couldn't remember ever being this tired or hungry.

"An awesome sadist?" Hermione asked.

"He didn't spend the whole time lecturing did he?" Ron asked.

Ginny shook her head. "No, the opposite actually," she paused. "It was fun, once we figured out what was going on, kind of different. You'll see once you have him."

"So, he's pretty likeable then?" Harry replied.

Ginny shrugged. "Well, his class was good, but other than calling out spells, he didn't say much more than three or four sentences to us," she paused. "I think he's American."

"Really?" Hermione asked. "That's interesting. Did he say where he studied?"

"Nope. The only thing he said about himself was his name."

"Then at least he's better than Lockhart," Ron said.

"Better to look at too," Ginny said.

"Ginny!" Ron replied.

"What? He's hot."

"Ginny! He's a professor!" Ron said, face red.

"So? Besides I don't think he's that much older than I am."

"Ginny!"

* * *

"Your lesson is all the students seem to be talking about, Professor," Flitwick said.

Justin paused, a forked piece of broccoli hovered in front of his mouth. "I've only had two classes," he said incredulously.

"You must have made an impression then."

Justin set the fork down. "I don't think I did anything particularly exciting."

"Between your background and mannerisms, I'm guessing anything you do will, at the very least, be interesting, if not exciting."

"...I don't understand."

Flitwick gave him a slightly incredulous look before sighing and turning back to his food.

* * *

Harry, Ron and Hermione filed in, looking around the room. The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was arguably the most exciting, mostly because it was the only one that changed on a regular basis. Some teachers were better and worse decorators but Professor Law was shaping up to fit in the with former.

"Definitely better than Lockhart," Ron said, under his breath.

"Isn't everyone?" Harry asked.

"Point taken," Ron replied.

"Looks like we're the first ones here," Hermione said, joining the conversation.

"That's because you're paranoid and made us leave lunch ten minutes early," Ron said.

"Well, excuse me for wanting to be on time," Hermione retorted.

"At least we get first choice of seats," Harry said, sitting at a spot towards the middle of the second tier of benches. Hermione and Ron sat down next to him.

A few minutes later found the rest of the class shuffling in. Malfoy sent a smirk in their direction as he made his way towards a spot at the front of the room.

That's right, they had Defense Against the Dark Arts with the Slytherins this year. How unfortunate.

Their teacher came in a minute or two before the bell rung, walking until he reached the raised platform at the front of the class. The crest of Hogwarts gleamed colorfully behind him as he turned to face them, a stark contrast to his own dark clothing, which was uninteresting, but well tailored and obviously high quality. There was a silver cross around his neck which was surprising. Most wizards shied away from religion.

More surprising though, was his age. He couldn't have been much older than twenty, and it wouldn't have been hard to believe he was younger than that.

Dumbledore seemed to think well of him though. And Harry knew what it was like to be given a lot of responsibility at a young age. So he was willing to give the Professor the benefit of the doubt.

Their teacher's voice broke him out of his musings.

"Welcome. I'm Professor Law. I'll be your Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor for the rest of the year."

"He barely looks old enough to own a wand," Malfoy muttered to Crabbe and Goyle, who both snickered quietly.

Harry shot them an irritated glance right as their Professor waved his wand.

A beam of green light shot towards the three Purebloods.

Bright green, a hue that was entirely familiar to the majority of the room.

Crabbe and Goyle dove out of their seats and onto the floor. Malfoy froze, eyes wide as it slammed into his forehead, leaving behind a neon splotch of green as the sparks dissipated.

The class held its breath.

Professor Law smiled blandly. "You're dead. Does it matter how old I am?"

Malfoy's eyes were still wide as he stared at their teacher with a stunned expression.

He turned to the rest of the class. "Lesson one, I suppose. If someone shoots green sparks at you, if you even _think_ someone has cast a killing curse, get out of the way. You two," he nodded at Crabbe and Goyle. "Did exactly what you were supposed to. You," a hard look at Malfoy. "Did not."

He continued with another smile, this one a bit more sincere. "But don't worry, by the end of this year, you'll all be much better at defending yourselves. My goal for you all is instinct. Defensive theory will only get you so far. It's only through accurate repetition, meaningful practice and constant application that you'll have the instincts you need to do what you need to do to protect yourself. When faced with danger, most people freeze, like our friend here," another quick gesture at Malfoy. "But, I guarantee that after this class none of you will."

"Now, everyone line up at the front of the room please. Bring your wands."

* * *

The Common Room was as boisterous and noisy as normal, but there was a noticeable lack of energy coming from the groups of students who'd had Professor Law's class that day. Hermione was slouched over on one of the couches. Harry and Ron had both given up on trying to look at all presentable and were laying down on one of the rugs in front of the fireplace.

"I'm in love," Ron said. "Ginny was right."

Harry laughed.

"No, seriously, that was the best thing I've ever seen. Malfoy looked like he was going to piss himself!"

"Don't be so vulgar, Ron," Hermione said, the sentence was lacking any real feeling though. "Although I will agree that it was nice to see Malfoy knocked down a peg or two."

"I think that might have been better than when Crouch turned him into a ferret," Ron said, snickering.

"It looks like Professor Law is going to be pretty cool," Harry said. "I'm excited for the rest of his class."

"He's a good wizard," Hermione said, looking a little more alert now that the conversation had turned towards academics. "Really good, especially at Transfigurations. I've never seen something that complex done silently. I'm almost more interested in asking him for pointers in that then in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"People that young don't normally get jobs at Hogwarts," Ron said. "It makes sense that he's a pretty wicked wizard."

"True."

* * *

Others weren't as impressed.

"Law," Snape said. "A word, please."

Justin looked up and closed the book he was holding.

He was sequestered in a semi-isolated nook he'd found towards the back of the library, recuperating from a day of teaching-talking-_interacting-with-humans-in-general_.

The Potions Professor must have been actively searching for him then. There was no way someone would have found him by chance.

"Of course, Professor. What can I do for you?" Polite smile, seemingly rapt attention, just a touch of irritation on the inside. (He was ready to be done with anything to do with the word "social" for the rest of the week.)

"One of my students came forward with a complaint about your class."

"They're my students too, Professor," Justin replied, a sharp glint entered his eyes. He was not in the mood for this. "If they have a concern about my class they should talk to me."

"None the less, it was me they felt comfortable speaking to," Snape replied.

Justin didn't see any point in prolonging the argument, so he stayed silent as Snape continued.

"The student claims that your lesson was 'emotionally damaging' and that he had 'genuine fear for his wellbeing'."

"Malfoy then?" Justin asked dryly.

"The student wished to remain anonymous," Snape replied.

"Tell him, that a color-change charm is hardly 'emotionally damaging'."

"I think there's much more to it the-"

"Professor," Justin replied, expression growing serious. "We have real enemies. I understand that you don't feel I'm qualified to teach, but we're on the same side. Don't waste your energy fighting_me_."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

But he was starting to.

"Ask your leader then," the Defense Professor replied. "Me teaching here is not by happenstance or based on the whims of an eccentric old man. I've come here for a reason and I don't have time to waste on petty disagreements with the people who should be on my side."

Snape's eyes narrowed with something that was close to understanding. Justin made eye contact for a few seconds before turning away from the potions master and re-opening his book.

"If Mr. Malfoy has any further complaints, he can address them to me."

Snape shot the boy a harsh glare but stalked off, recognizing a dismal when he saw one.

And from a teenager of all people. The urge to hex the boy into oblivion was strong.

He'd resist for a bit though.

He and the Headmaster were going to be have to have a long talk first.

* * *

**A/N: Apologies for the slighter shorter chapter and the long wait, but the next one should be up soon. Also, sorry to anyone who has sent me PM's recently and hasn't gotten a response. I had a bit of an emergency that took longer than I thought it would to resolve so fanfiction has taken a bit of a back-seat.**


	9. Chapter 9

The end of the first week found a mass of white blocking most of the Death Scythe's vision. His office wasn't large to begin with, and the hundreds of papers floating in the air around him only added to the claustrophobia. And slight dizziness. Floating was a bit of an understatement, rapid spiraling into different shapes was a slightly more accurate description.

The goal was patterns. Statistics, his student's, were written on the papers and grouped together for various reasons. He was trying to make sense of them, but it was more difficult than he expected. There didn't seem to be anything very noteworthy. No one group excelled at anything, no one major mistake was constantly appearing. Considering the diverse amount of teachers his students had faced with prior to his appointment, he had expected the ability of each group to range a bit more.

Power levels, low, no one was much higher than a four on a scale of 1-10. Accuracy, low, practically non-existent once factors other than "point and shoot" were introduced. Speed presented similarly. The only real difference was the obvious divide in vocabulary. His older students knew quite a few more spells than his younger students did but, he was realizing that it wasn't any sort of guarantee that they were any better at casting them.

Technically, it was a pattern, just not one he expected.

_My students are pathetic. _

It wasn't a very charitable thought, but it was one that refused to stop dancing around his head.

Not pathetic - just inexperienced, _different_.

That was more accurate. The fact of the matter was, Hogwarts and the DWMA had entirely different goals. Hogwarts wasn't training fighters and learning to defend themselves was only a small part of a diverse curriculum.

He realized that there wasn't necessarily anything wrong with that. The whole reason the DWMA existed was so people like his new students could live in peace. But, it was definitely a concept, state of mind, he was having to relearn.

He hadn't been a civilian in - how long was it now? Five years? Six? Either way, readjusting was more difficult than he'd expected it to be. Afterall, the fact that everyone scored incredibly low meant that part of the problem was the scale he'd used to measure them. Low results couldn't be blamed solely on ability levels. He'd have to adjust future assignments accordingly.

(It was somewhat ironic. He'd actually thought the amount of adjusting down he'd done from the DWMA's usual gauge had the potential to be an underestimation. In truth, he'd been somewhat expecting completely opposite results. Really high scores due to a flawed curve, not extremely low ones.)

He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms high above his head.

Well, no matter how he looked at it-

And then his thoughts came to a complete halt as something flared on the edge of his senses.

The Death Scythe slammed his chair forward and a sea of white fell to the floor as the magic suspending the papers faded in favor of fortifying his soul percept. His eyes glowed bright and he vaulted over the desk, exiting the room and entering one of Hogwart's many corridors fluidly and nearly instantly.

It seemed Dumbledore's prediction of a Horcrux existing in Hogwarts was entirely accurate. A dark, twisted presence was dancing just out of reach of his perception.

It was - above him. No, below.

No, same floor. No, definitely above.

He ran up the nearest staircase and mentally cursed as it started moving towards a lower floor. It's ambient magic was making it hard to focus on the Horcrux. Hogwart's magic in general was doing that though, and he closed his eyes for a second, forcing himself to ignore it.

He opened his eyes right as another staircase appeared near him. The Death Scythe steeled himself, took a running start and jumped the ten or so feet it was above him. His fingers gripped the railing and he flipped himself over it, ever-present silver cross nearly falling off his neck as he did so. And then he was off, running through the halls as soon as his feet hit the ground.

Where? Sensing one thing shouldn't be so difficult.

But, that painting was hiding a secret passage behind it. And that statue was coated in a layer of wards. It must be important. A lot of effort had been put into making sure it wasn't ever damaged. And that painting felt just like Dumbledore's soul. Odd. And there was dozens of musics coming from below him, it had to be a dormitory. And it looked like an astronomy class was meeting somewhere above him. Professor Vector was sleeping in the room he'd just passed, it was also located behind a painting. And outside of Hogwarts, there were all kinds of magical creatures hiding in the forest. Why hadn't he noticed that before?! Even the floor was LOUD! Why was the floor enchanted?

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, but a steady crescendo was roaring in his ears and he could feel the start of a familiar sharp pain building behind his eyes.

He'd always struggled with soul perception.

He closed his eyes again, in an effort to refocus-

"What on Earth?!"

-and promptly stumbled back as he ran into someone.

His eyes shot open, free of soul percept's subtle glow this time, and he immediately held a hand out to help the person he had knocked over.

"I'm so sorry-Professor Snape?"

"Professor Law," The Potions Master said, ignoring the proffered hand and picking himself up. He brushed some imaginary dust off his robes and shot the younger teacher a dark look. "Speak of the devil. What are you doing running around like a buffoon at this ungodly hour?"

The defense teacher lowered his hand and gave the other professor a measuring look before replying.

"I thought I heard something."

"'_Heard' _something?" Snape said, with a sneer. "From a floor away? Pray tell, where is this mysteriously loud noise?"

"It's gone now," Justin said. And it was true. There was still music flowing all over the castle, even though he'd stopped actively using his soul percept, but he'd lost his grip on the Horcruxe's song after running into the other teacher. "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. It won't happen again."

With that said, he turned to go back to his classroom.

"Professor Law."

Justin paused, but didn't turn back around. While he didn't have particularly strong opinions about the Potions master, he did dislike the man just enough to want to discourage conversation that strayed from the briefer end of the spectrum. The lack of headphones meant his usual defense, "accidently" ignoring him, wouldn't work. So not-so-subtle body language was his only other option.

Snape addressed his back easily enough though. "I took your advice."

"Oh?"

"The Headmaster has a lot of respect for you. That's not something he gives freely."

Justin stayed silent.

"However, I've often felt he is far too liberal with his trust," Snape continued.

"That's not really my business, Professor," Justin shrugged and started walking. "It's late. I'll be on my way, if you don't mind."

The other Professor continued, despite his retreat. "For your sake Law, I hope you are who you say."

Justin ignored the comment and continued his path back to his living quarters and office.

He was quickly developing an intense migraine, the Potions master was the least of his concerns.

* * *

"Interesting, and you say it disappeared before you reached it?"

Justin nodded at the Headmaster. "That's correct. I was in my office, I felt an energy spike, investigated and then it faded before I could find it. I haven't been able to sense it since. But I believe it was coming from the upper levels of the castle."

Justin looked down and clasped his cross between two hands.

"Forgive me, Headmaster," he said, self-deprecatingly. "To be honest, I'm not suited to this sort of work. I put more effort into suppressing my perception abilities than actively using them. Using them in full force, even for only a few minutes was extremely difficult, especially in this sort of environment."

Energy everywhere. Even after a full night of sleep he still had a bit of a lingering headache.

"No. Don't worry yourself over it," Dumbledore replied, smiling widely at the boy. "Even the little bit of information you've given me is useful."

Justin dropped his cross and nodded.

"On another note entirely, my good friend, how have your classes been going? The students don't seem to have anything but glowing reports for you."

Justin found himself momentarily caught off guard by the warm address, (friend?) but he answered the question. "It's been interesting. I think it's going to take a bit of adapting on both mine and the students' part before things start running perfectly."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Professor, let me give you some advice. Nothing will ever go 'perfectly' when you're teaching. That's what makes it so entertaining."

* * *

"Everything all right, Harry?" Hermione asked from across the table.

Harry lifted his head up from it's position on the table and nodded.

"I'm-" he yawned. "Fine. I'm fine. Sorry, I didn't sleep well last night."

"Nightmares again?"

"Yeah," he said, grabbing a muffin off a nearby tray and taking a bite out of it.

"You really should talk to Dumbledore about it."

Harry shook his head. "No, I don't want to bother him."

He looked to the front of the table. "Besides, he's not even here today."

Hermione and Ron followed his gaze.

"Huh, you're right," Ron said.

"It looks like Professor Law is skipping breakfast today too," Hermione said.

"Weird," Harry said, turning back to his muffin.

* * *

**A/N: Ugh, guys don't choose science majors in College. Gen-Chem is the worst and Calculus isn't much better. ;)**

**Anyways, sorry for the wait. When I posted Chapter 8 I had this one mostly written out, so I thought it would go up pretty quickly, but I ended up doing a few more rewrites than expected. :/ It's also a little shorter than I planned. The original version was closer to 3000 words but I ended up deciding that a few scenes needed to happen later in the story. Good news though is that you guys will probably get an extra long chapter in a few posts to make up for it.**

**Also, please check out the wonderful 1000 Faces of Pain, she's agreed to be the beta for this story and she's really the only reason this chapter is posted. It probably would have taken me much longer to get around to rewriting if she hadn't kicked me into gear. :)**

**As always, reviews are awesome! And the next chapter should be out a little more promptly. *fingers crossed***


	10. Chapter 10

"Alright everyone, welcome," the Defense Professor said as the last of the class, a combination of seventh year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, took their seats.

"Today we'll be working on creatively applying something I'm sure you're all fairly familiar with. Who can tell me what the incantation for a shield spell is?"

"Protego, sir," one of the students, Lee Jordan, if he remembered correctly, replied.

"Correct, five points to Gryffindor. Now, name something else you could do to defend yourself against hostile magic."

"Protego Maxima?" one of the Hufflepuffs towards the back of the room asked.

"Well, yes. Technically that's correct, three points to Hufflepuff, Mr. Briarson," Justin said. "But what about something other than shield charms?"

A sea of blank looks answered that statement.

Right, okay.

Not meisters. Definitely not demon weapons. Just, kids.

(Actually, the class was actually full of students the same age as him _but_...)

"If someone attacked you with something that couldn't be blocked with the protego charm, what would you do?" Justin asked, rephrasing the question in hopes that it might spark some ideas.

"I guess you could dodge," a Gryffindor said from her spot in the back.

"That's true, Miss. Spinnet. Anything else?" Justin said.

At least someone had stated the obvious. They weren't _entirely _hopeless.

More silence from the rest of the class had him mentally revising that thought.

The past few lessons had made it abundantly clear that letting kids shoot at targets was much easier than trying to talk to them.

"Alright then, how about summoning something to you," Justin said. "A killing curse can't be blocked by a shield spell but, something as simple as a book," he flicked his wand and one of the books on his desk appeared, almost instantly, in front of him. "Will stop it."

"You could also transfigure a wall in front of you," one of the Hufflepuffs said.

"Or levitate something," another replied.

Justin nodded. "Both good ideas."

At least a few people seemed to be getting it.

"You could always just apparate away," one of the Weasley twins, Fred, said.

And suddenly, it clicked. Answers started coming from all corners of the room.

"If you're a fast enough spell caster, a lot of curses have counter-curses."

"There are tons of defensive runes."

"A wall of fire might block some spells."

"You could set up a warded area and stay in that."

"Some plants absorb magic."

"Good, all of you take five points," Justin said. "I'm glad you're all starting to think about this because that leads us into our practical for the day. If all of you would come to the front, please."

The class exchanged excited looks and made their way to the front of the room.

The word 'practical' was fast becoming one of the more exciting ones around Hogwarts. So far there'd been one in every single of of Professor Law's lessons.

Their other teachers, even though they were really only a few classes into term, were already frantically drilling theory into their heads in order to prepare them for their NEWT exams. Which made the fact that there was a teacher on campus actively encouraging spell-casting instead of note-taking nice, if somewhat unexpected.

As they moved away from their seats, much like it had during the first lesson, the classroom began shifting. It stretched out into a large, circular, arena-like space, and the lighting grew dimmer as all but a single window disappeared. The different desks and tables, rather than folding themselves out of the way like they had before, instead split apart and scattered themselves throughout the massive area.

Professor Law's transformations were only getting more dramatic it seemed. The vast majority of the class couldn't help a small twinge of jealousy.

Transfiguration skills like that would get any of them an 'O' on their NEWTs.

"Alright, since this is only our second week of class, the objective is fairly straightforward," Justin said as the spell finished. "I'll be attacking you with the color-change charm, _colovaria_, if anyone is interested," he continued. "Your goal is to avoid getting hit. Anyone who isn't able to do so will be assigned a minimum fifteen-hundred word paper on what we've talked about today. However, if you manage to effectively defend against me, then you'll be excused from tonight's homework. And, please note, that any green sparks I shoot at you will pass through shield-charms. So, be prepared to defend yourself using more than just Protego."

He'd already measured their raw magical ability. Now he was interested in seeing what they could actually do with it. Even though he'd officially moved out of the 'pre-test' phase of his lessons, he was still working at getting a fully accurate gauge of his students' abilities.

Justin smiled. "Any questions?"

A few eyes widened.

George raised his hand. "Are we allowed to shoot back at you?"

"Of course," Justin said. "Fighting off an attacker if just as valid as defending yourself against one."

His response only lead to more confused looks though and several more hands went up.

Justin held his own hand up, an indication for them to pause. "Let me just say that there really aren't any rules to what you can and can't do. Form teams, draw runes, summon something, transfigure something else, use a potion, cast the most dangerous curses you know, whatever it takes. As far as I'm concerned, this is a life or death situation, so do what you have to do to 'survive'."

"But, what if we accidently hurt you?" One of the Hufflepuffs asked.

"I doubt that'll be a problem," Justin said, fighting off the amused expression that wanted to work its way onto his face with a polite grin. "In fact, I'll even make you all a deal. If any of you manage to hit me, with anything, I'll exempt that person from homework until winter break."

And that was all it took for the cloud of trepidation hanging over the class to fade in favor of excitement. Several of his students sent calculating looks his way and Justin couldn't help but smile at the rapid change in attitude.

"Alright then, if there are no more questions, begin."

Almost instantly, their teacher blurred into action and three of them turned orange.

The rest of the class ran for cover.

* * *

"One thousand, two hundred and twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five," Fred tapped his quill along his parchment to facilitate his counting. "Twenty-six, twenty-seven, damn!"

George looked over from his own homework and sent his brother an irritated look. "Keep it down George, some of us are trying to work."

"How am I supposed to keep quiet when we're being taught by a sadistic bastard?"

"Professor Law?" George asked. "I think he's pretty awesome."

"He assigned us a wordcount Fred. A wordcount!"

George laughed. "Well, it definitely makes all those years of perfecting giant handwriting useless."

"I know! It's ridiculous! Why can't he just say, 'eight inches', like he's supposed to?"

"Maybe it's an American thing?"

"Remind me to direct my holidays elsewhere then. They're obviously even crazier than we thought," Fred said, letting an annoyed huff escape afterwards.

"Just play the game, Fred. If he's going to inflate our workload, it's only fair the we reciprocate with inflated sentences. For example, my first line, 'The usages and applications of the Shield Charm, also know as the Protego Charm, Protego, Shield Spell, etc., etc., with variants such as Protego Maxima and Protego Horribilis, are large, wide, varying, and far reaching', even though, 'There are many applications of the Shield Charm', would do the job just as well."

Fred snickered. "Probably better, that first line is unbelievably pretentious."

George released a dramatic sigh. "I'm selling out for an 'O', brother. Apologies."

"An O? Do we care about things like that now?"

"Not really. I just want this stupid assignment finished already."

"Agreed," Fred said. "Besides, why assign a writing anyways? I'd much rather have him teach us how to do a backflip."

"Or jump five meters in the air?"

"Or how about finding people, even after a room is covered in Peruvian Dark Powder?"

"It's like he has eyes-"

"-with night vision-"

"-in the back of his head," the other twin finished.

Fred groaned. "I used almost _half_ of my stock trying to tag him with something...and Peruvian Dark Powder is expensive," he finished with a mutter.

"More than half for me," George said, pulling a few fleshy strings out of his pockets. "The only thing I have left are extendable ears."

"What? You're serious?"

"Unfortunately. And he still got every single person in the room."

"Where did Dumbledore find this guy?"

George laughed. "He is a bit more interesting than expected."

"Well, that settles it then."

"Oh?"

"Well, I was just thinking that, seeing as how the good professor heavily emphasizes practical defense skills, it's only fair that we make sure he's practicing what he preaches."

"A religious joke, I approve. Of it, and your train of thought, Gred."

"I was turned fuschia today, Forge."

"I don't think I've seen Professor Law wearing anything other than gray."

"Well, you know what they say about turnabout."

* * *

A few rooms over, Justin sneezed.

Strange.

It'd been years since he'd last had a cold.

It had to be all the people. Crowds of teenagers tended to moonlight as cesspools of disease.

"Are you feeling alright, Professor?" Madame Pomfrey, asked.

"Fine, yes, thank you," Justin replied. Perhaps it hadn't been wise to take his grading into the staff room. (Trying to be social had the tendency to do him more grief than good.)

"Don't work too hard dear. If you need anything, just let me know."

Justin nodded. "Thank you, Madame Pomfrey. I'll be sure to do so."

Dear?

An obvious paradigm shift had occurred in the past few days.

Realistically, it had started weeks ago. Madam Umbridge's obvious dislike, and subsequent censure, of him had firmly placed him on the 'us' side of the staff. In the face of a Ministry Interloper, a young foreigner was the lesser of two evils.

And now, with a bit of positive feedback from the students, and a show of work ethic, after the hours he'd spent holed up in his office, or grading in the staffroom, he was garnering a touch of respect in addition to their sympathy. Faces that had previously doubted him, were slowly warming up.

'He can't teach! He's too young!' was rapidly shifting towards, 'He's young, but very mature. And the students don't have a single negative thing to say about him.'

The fact that he was obviously on their side, the fact that his lessons hadn't crashed and burned, the fact that he was polite and well-mannered, all of it was slowly bringing the staff around.

The most obvious result? Well, people who had previously dismissed him, even if he hadn't 'technically' been aware of it, felt the need to make it up to him.

'If you need anything, Professor Law, just let me know.'

'Professor Law, any advice I have to offer is yours.'

'Would you like to join us, Professor? We're having a meeting about extracurriculars and thought you might be interested, since you're new to Hogwarts and all. If you need any help settling in, we'd be happy to lend a hand!'

Etcetera, etcetera.

Obviously there were exceptions. He'd gotten along with Flitwick and Dumbledore pretty much from day one, Snape and he were still somewhat at odds, and there probably wasn't anything that could turn Umbridge and himself into allies, but, by in large, the staff was friendlier than ever. (Whether or not that was a good thing, remained to be seen.)

Most of the staff was in the staffroom. It was apparently the place to be late in the evenings for teachers. Even Umbridge was sitting at a table a few feet away from him. He was ignoring her though, with the hope that she'd do the same for him.

"I'll have to agree with Madame Pomphrey on this one, Professor Law," Professor Flitwick said, from his spot across from Justin. The two of them were sharing a table. "You do have a tendency to work too hard. I don't think I've seen you in here without a stack of paperwork since the school year started. And, even before that, you spent all your spare time in the library."

"I like to stay busy," Justin said, writing a comment on one of the essays as he did so. He hadn't really adapted to the use of quills so he was working with a red, ballpoint pen instead. "And I'm used to working. I tend to get restless when I'm not."

"Did you have a job prior to this appointment, Professor?" Flitwick asked.

"Yes," Justin replied. "I've worked with the DWMA's European Branch for the past four, almost five, years."

"Four years?" Flitwick said. "That didn't interfere with your schooling?"

"I'd already graduated at that point," Justin said, grabbing another essay from his pile. "So, not at all."

"What? Really?" Flitwick asked.

Justin paused his grading and looked up. Flitwick, and a few other staff members, were looking at him with somewhat surprised expressions.

"I, yes," Justin said. "Sorry, I suppose I'm somewhat used to it being common knowledge. Dumbledore didn't tell you?"

"No, he didn't," Flitwick replied. "Although, I suppose I understand why he hired you now. Obviously you're a very bright young man," he smiled. "And I do believe congratulations are in order. Graduating at thirteen, then? That's quite the accomplishment."

"It is, isn't it?" a high-pitched squeak joined the conversation. "Assuming the standards at your alma mater are up to par."

Umbridge, who'd stood up at some point during their conversation to leave, had reversed her path and was coming towards them. There was still enough time to power up a _law-abiding-silver _\- but, no, that probably went against his mission parameters.

"Where did you study, Mr. Law?" Umbridge said.

Flitwick jumped to his aid. "The Ministry doesn't already know, Madame Auditor?"

"We're still waiting on the American government. They haven't transferred any of his records to us," she was obviously displeased by that.

(Was that the cover Lord Death had come up with? Something told him that Madame Umbridge would be waiting a long time.)

"It's not a secret," Justin said, in hopes it might diffuse the situation. "I studied at the DWMA."

"Hem, hem," Umbridge paused to collect herself. He'd obviously surprised her.

She recovered quickly enough though, "Well, you mean to say that Dumbledore hired someone claiming to be from a school we've never made contact with? One that, for all we know, doesn't even have a Defense Against the Dark Arts Program? What _have_ you been teaching then?" More screeching.

Her hand shot forward and she grabbed one of the essays he was grading. He probably could have stopped her, but he had a feeling that would only exacerbate the situation. The two of them both were watching each other with narrowed eyes, and Justin's posture was switching more and more into 'at attention'.

"_Practical_ applications of the shield charm?" she asked. "This is _not_, Ministry approved curriculum, Mister Law."

"It's on the spell list for both the OWL and NEWT tests, Madame. I should know, it's only been a little over two months since I took them myself."

"Oh, I am well aware of that _Mister _Law," she replied, tartly. (His report card full of O's had been one of the reasons why she hadn't been able to force her way into the Defense position.) "That said, you obviously don't understand the tests very well, if you feel this is the best way to prepare the students."

"I'd like to think my scores say otherwise."

Cheeky, little, _brat. _This _boy_ infuriated her.

"_Mister _Law," she said. "You are a child. Maybe a very clever one. Maybe even a very talented one. But still, a _child_ and you should show your betters some respect. I have worked in this industry almost as long as you've been alive. Do not presume to think yourself more educated in the subject than I."

He bit back a retort. More educated? She worked a desk job. He'd spent years of his life studying combat. There was no question of who was more _educated._ But, he wasn't really allowed to tell her that.

He grasped mentally for his shield of niceties, a calm remark to pacify her, a polite phrase to make her leave - loud music.

At least then he'd be able to ignore her.

"Now that's enough, Madame," Flitwick said, coming to his defense again, much to Justin's personal gratitude. "That assignment is hardly out of line. I'm sure we can all agree that we've given similar ones in the past."

Several of the teachers nodded.

"The summer homework for the Sixth years asked them to write a paper about the uses of transfiguring inanimate objects to animate ones," Mcgonagall said. "I received answers ranging from increasing the ease of grocery shopping to Mr. Krum's battle against the dragon at the Triwizard Tournament last year. It was, in a word, quite _practical._"

The Auditor's smug expression was slowly turning sour. "Well, Professor Mcgonagall, Professor Flitwick, while I appreciate your input, I believe this is a private conversation between me and Mister Law-"

"-it's awfully loud, for a private conversation," Snape said, from his own spot towards the back of the room. "Some of us have real work to do, you and Law should move elsewhere if it's one you wish to continue."

"Apologies for disturbing you, Professor Snape," Justin said. "I have work to do myself. Perhaps another time, Madame Umbridge?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Of course, Mister Law. I'm beginning my classroom observations at the beginning of next month. We'll have _plenty _to talk about then."

And, with that said, she stalked out of the room.

* * *

**A/N: So, in my outline, I actually planned for Umbridge and Justin to be fairly cordial towards each other. I assumed she'd be more interested in causing problems for people openly affiliated with Dumbledore, rather than a random stranger. And Justin's default reaction, my version of him at least, is polite apathy. There's a part of me that still finds my original plans more believable, however, this is infinitely more entertaining. Umbridge is a psycho, haha, but she's a 'very-fun-to-write' psycho.**

**On another note, I'm happy to finally get back to a normal wordcount, I like to aim for the ~2000-3500 words, 7-10 pages, range. So, with possible exceptions, that should be more the norm from now on.**

**As always, reviews are appreciated. And, if you're interested, I'm willing to send anyone who leaves a signed review on this chapter a copy of the deleted scenes for it. In this case, it'd be an alternate Fred and George conversation and a much angrier Justin during the Umbridge scene. Together, they're a little over six hundred words.**

**(I would offer them to anonymous reviewers too, but I don't have a way to get them to you. Sorry!)**

**In general, I have a ton of deleted scenes, about 1 page to every 2 that are published, so I figured some people might be interested in reading them and have been trying to come up with a way to incorporate them without disrupting the flow of the story. This is the only idea I could think of that would work, so, just let me know if you'd like me to message you the ones from this chapter.**


	11. Chapter 11

The only allowance he made, for the cooling weather, was the addition of sleeves to his, previously sleeveless robe, and a pair of white gloves. Normally, he wouldn't have even bothered with that, but, unlike other places he'd visited while on assignment, Hogsmeade wasn't an active combat zone. And that meant he wasn't likely to generate a lot of extra body heat in the near future.

Clothing modifications complete, the Death Scythe picked up his briefcase and left his living quarters.

A few minutes later found him at the entrance at the front of the school and, with a few steps past that, he entered one of the thestral drawn carriages. Inside were a couple other staff members, Sinistra and Vector, the Astronomy and Arithmancy teachers respectively. Of his fellow professors, the two of them tended towards the more severe end of the spectrum. Which meant that, unlike the friendlier members of the teaching staff, he hadn't had much interaction with the two.

Being entirely honest, though, that was how he preferred to keep it. Typical, polite, neutrality painted his face as he watched them from where he sat. It wasn't an expression that necessarily discouraged conversation but, it also didn't do much to encourage it.

The other two Professors, with similar expressions, seemed inclined to do the same and the carriage stayed quiet throughout the trip, calm silence amongst strangers. Between being out of the magically-saturated castle, and the lack of dialog, Justin found himself, quite possibly, the most at ease he'd been since he'd first started his mission. Even the Horcrux was keeping quiet under the treated leather of his briefcase.

He mentally intoned a small prayer, a quick expression of gratitude for the peace, and then closed his eyes as the souls of the town starting hovering at the edges of his senses.

It was, another adaptation to a new environment. And, unlike his introduction to Hogwarts, it wasn't going to be done in sections, first Dumbledore, then the staff, and then the students. This was going to be a wave of people, from the get-go.

He was already throwing up barriers between himself and his soul perception. But, that didn't stop him from sensing the two powerful souls, broadcasting loudly from somewhere in town.

They were right on time then, though that wasn't particularly surprising. The two of them were one of the most efficient Meister/Weapon pairs he'd ever encountered, and possibly even more business minded than he was.

The younger of the two had a soul perception that was nearly as strong as his. And, unlike his, it was entirely under control. So, it was very likely they knew he had arrived.

As they had agreed on though, they didn't meet him at the station and Justin walked off the carriage and into town alone. At least, as alone as he could be in a crowd of several hundred other students and teachers.

"Professor Law!"

Speaking of students.

Justin paused and turned around, smiling politely as he caught sight of the one who'd grabbed his attention.

"Hello, Miss Lovegood," he said. The Ravenclaw was wearing thick pink glasses and a pile of orange scarves. She was definitely one of his more unconventional students, but she had talent in addition to her eccentricities. "How are you today?"

"Purple," she said. "Though I could probably use some more yellow."

He smiled, somewhat uneasily. Was he missing a Wizard thing or a Luna thing? For all that he had studied the culture of his current place of residence, he still slipped every once in awhile. It could usually be blamed on the fact that he was from a foreign country, but, occasionally, he'd had to do some pretty serious recoup after a social blunder.

Well, he'd just have to fake it. "Not orange?" he asked.

"That's not a bad idea, Professor," she smiled. "Orange might even be better. I didn't know you were so versed in Colorstrology!"

"Lucky guess?" he said. "I'm not, really."

"You're quite modest," she said. "That's not a trait I'd expect from your kind. But, it's not a bad one to have overall."

"My kind?" Justin asked, a bit amused.

"Soul Eaters-"

And suddenly, slight amusement turned almost panic. If it wasn't likely to immediately give him away, he'd have stopped in his tracks. As it was, he barely managed to avoid widening his eyes.

"-I'm sorry, Soul what?" Justin said, cutting her off.

Luna grinned, "don't worry, Professor. Your secret is safe with me. Unless you'd like to do an interview for the Quibbler?"

The Quib-what? Justin shook his head and opened his mouth, "I'm sorry, Miss Lovegood. I really don't know what you're talking about."

"Hm, well the last thing I expected was to find a Soul Eater who didn't even know what one is. That would be quite like me saying I don't know what humans are," she laughed. "Which, would be a bit ridiculous. Perhaps you've been infected with Klikskies? They eat facts. I think I have some repellant," she pulled her bag up, equally showy as the rest of her outfit, and started digging through it.

...did that mean she didn't believe him? Or was she just going off on a tangent? He was much better at keeping secrets than talking his way out of revealed ones. There was a reason he kept things close to his chest.

"Miss Lovegood, I really don't know what you're talking about," well, maybe reiteration would drive the point home.

She paused her search and looked at him fully. "You don't? But, I was so sure. Your cross-"

"My cross?" Justin asked.

"The symbol on it. A circle for unity, three in between for chaos, balance and experience. Three prongs to represent teeth? You know, the three parts of the soul? Unified as one? A Soul Eater's meal of choice?"

Three circles for what? Prongs? He didn't even have to fake the confusion in his next line.

"What?"

She looked somewhat discouraged and he felt a serious twinge of guilt. Her guess about his identity wasn't actually wrong. But, he couldn't tell her that.

"You really don't? How disappointing."

"I'm sorry," Justin said, sincerely. "It's a family heirloom. My father gave it to me."

There, he was offering her a touch of truth to make up for the deception. It wasn't really fair, but, it was the best he could do.

"Family heirloom? Maybe your family hunted Soul Eaters then? Did anyone in your family have the last name Kitchen?"

"Kitchen? No, not that I'm aware," he paused and this time his eyes did widen. Did she mean _Kishin_?

"Too bad. Oh well," she obviously hadn't noticed his growing shock. "Well, I apologize then. I suppose you're as human as the rest of us."

"Sorry to disappoint," Justin said, deciding to worry about it later. Perhaps Lord Death had some sort of idea what she was talking about. "Still, even if you were wrong this time, it's a good skill to be so observant. You normally sit towards the back, right? It's amazing you noticed my cross at all."

She smiled shyly. "Well, it looks like I'm not the only observant one. That's right, Professor," she shot him another smile. "Anyways, I'll be going now. Sorry to bother you."

"Not at all," Justin said. "If you ever have questions, feel free to bring them to me."

She smiled again and walked away, turning around to wave, once she was a few feet away. Justin waved back and started walking in the opposite direction.

As much as he'd have liked to look into the bookstore she was headed towards, two flashes of blue light were telling him that he needed to head elsewhere.

* * *

Elsewhere ended up being a crowded street. But, even amongst the crowd, the souls of Meister Giuliano Carracci and, his partner, Lukas Reinhardt, were loud and bright enough to distinguish them. Their clothes however, a set of black robes and hats, did not. They were much better at blending in than he'd been upon the start of his mission.

The two of them were sitting in front of a small restaurant, rapidly chatting at each other in Italian, the twenty-eight year old meister's native language and one his German partner had mastered.

Justin ignored them though and made his way into one of the nearby shops, looked around for a bit, then walked into another. The trick was appearing nonchalant, which was somewhat difficult to do in such a _loud _environment without earphones, but, he continued walking around, in hopes it might fool at least _some_ people.

"Signore Law!"

The signal that he was allowed to stop. His subordinates were calling an all clear.

Justin turned to the voice and adopted a surprised expression. "Carracci? Hello. I didn't expect to see you here."

The Italian beamed at him and walked over. "Hello, hello! I could say the same, Mr. Law. What are you doing here?" the thin, blond, man asked.

"I teach now," Justin replied, he gestured towards Hogwarts. "At the school, just up the road."

"You?! Teaching?!" the man grabbed his arm, and Justin resisted the urge to brush him off. (Mission. Cover. Important.) "Now that is a story I must hear, come, sit with me and Lukas for a bit, if you have the time."

Justin nodded. "Sure, I didn't have any real plans."

"Well, now you do, friend. Eat lunch with us?"

Justin nodded again.

"Excellent," the man said. "_How's your Italian doing, Captain?" _he asked, switching back to his own language.

"_It's as good as it's ever been," _Justin replied.

"_So, perfect?" _Carracci smiled. "_Glad to hear it."_

The two sat down at the table and Justin felt a subtle ward materialize over them.

"_We are fairly certain that no one in the near vicinity speaks Italian," _the Meister said, in response to Justin's perception of the spell.

"_But it never hurts to be careful," _his partner, the forty-two year old, sniper-rifle, continued.

Both partners had blond hair but, while the Italian's was curly and toned closer to brown, the German's was nearly white - almost bleached looking - and neatly combed back. The Italian had darker features, and brown eyes. The German was paler, taller and older, nearly fifteen years his partner's senior. The two of them hadn't gone through the Academy together, but their teamwork was flawless anyways.

Carracci's prowess at hunting, tracking, and sniping was a perfect match to the rifle's weapon form and preferred mission types. Beyond that, both of them had a severe, no nonsense attitude to approaching missions that had seriously turned any other potential partners off. That said, when paired together, it made them a lethal combination that approached missions with single-minded, and, very effective, determination.

They were his go-to team for pretty much anything that required a touch more subtle than "There's a monster. Go kill it.".

"_Death Scythe," _Reinhardt never addressed him by anything other than his official title. His partner was prone to Mister, Sir and even _Captain _for reasons Justin didn't really understand. But the German was a stickler for protocol. "_We are ready to work. Did you bring the Horcrux?"_

"_It's in the briefcase,"_ Justin replied, making no motion to indicate what they were talking about. "_It's a diary, with a hole through the center. There are also some notes from Dumbledore, his personal theories. I'll leave the treatment of those up to your discretion."_

"_That thing is disgusting," _the meister said. "_I can feel it. It's like oil, creeping into your skin."_

"_I'm pleased to be rid of it," _Justin replied. "_The sooner we destroy these aberrations, the better."_

"_Agreed, Death Scythe," _the rifle said. "_The division is much less...structured...when you're not around to coordinate everything. We'll all be glad when you are able to come back."_

"_Have there been any problems?" _Justin asked.

"_Oh, the usual stuff. The Greek branch complains about being under-funded, the French branch wants to go on strike and the Swiss branch won't talk to any of us. The only real problem is that you're not around to mediate," _Carracci said.

Justin grimaced. "_Report, fully. I need to know what kind of chaos I'll be coming back to."_

His two subordinates nodded.

* * *

"_Oh, and Meister Bright and her partner, Lucan Hemlock, they split up."_

"_They've never gotten along well," _Justin said. "_But they were very successful. It's disappointing to hear that they won't be working together any more."_

"_But, not surprising?" _Carracci replied.

"_No, unfortunately, not at all."_

"_There is a group of people coming towards us,"_ Reinhardt said, halting the conversation.

Justin, back faced towards the street, couldn't see them. But, even keeping his soul perception somewhat limited, he knew the ringleader behind their approach. Umbridge's soul was as unpleasant as ever, and the group of people surrounding her had just as much pride as she did.

"_A co-worker of sorts," _Justin replied. "_She's most likely the one dressed in something fluffy and pink."_

"_The man with her is Minister Fudge," _Carracci said. "_And the blond man is a follower of Voldemort. I can sense the taint on his arm."_

"_Yes, one of the other Professors at the school feels similar," _Justin replied.

"_We could always capture and interrogate him," _Reinhard said. "_It might save us some time," _ever pragmatic.

"_No," _Justin said. "_I doubt Voldemort trusts his followers with the sort of information we need. Besides, if he's walking around with Minister Fudge-"_

"_-then he's probably important. Too bad," _the Italian smirked. "_That sounded fun. Lower the ward Lukas, they might want to talk to us."_

"_Hopefully not," _Justin replied.

There was always the possibility that they were just going to the restaurant...

"_Mister _Law," high, screechy.

...but he was never that lucky.

Justin stood up and turned around. His subordinates did the same, falling in line to flank him at his sides.

"Madame Umbridge, hello. I hope you're having a pleasant afternoon," he smiled.

"I am," she said. Her expression turned somewhat sour. "As I'm sure you know," she gestured towards the man wearing green robes and a bowler hat at her side. "This is Minister Fudge."

Justin nodded and held his hand out. The Minister stepped forward and shook it enthusiastically.

"Hello, young man. It's a pleasure to meet you!" he smiled widely. "We were all having lunch together when your name came up. And, let me say, I am _very_ impressed."

...what? Madame Umbridge hated him.

"So, the DWMA, then? That's definitely something, my young friend."

Of course.

_Politics_.

Madame Umbridge had targeted him before she knew where he came from. Minister Fudge though, was doing the opposite. The DWMA had a certain prestige attached to it that the Minister was obviously interested in making contact with. Justin represented his opportunity to do so.

Fudge was going to play much nicer than Umbridge had.

Frankly, he didn't know which was worse.

The Ministry was incompetent. He had zero interest in parley with them.

So, Justin nodded.

Short, to the point. It did nothing to help the conversation along.

The Minister coughed. "Well, are you enjoying your stay at Hogwarts then, Mr. Law?"

"It's been fine."

The Minister laughed. "I'm glad to hear it. Tell me, how does it hold up to your homeschool?"

"Fine."

He had a feeling Carracci was holding in snickers. Justin's expression was entirely apathy though.

"Just fine?" another voice cut in. This one belonged to the follower of Voldemort. "Hogwarts is the _finest_ institute of magic in the whole of Europe."

He was, potentially, quite a bit more useful than Fudge.

"Hogwarts has been an interesting experience. Teaching is very rewarding, Mister?"

Blond, aristocratic features. The Defense Professor had a pretty good idea.

"Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy. And you? Justin Law, correct? That's not a name I've heard before."

From his place at Justin's side, his subordinate snorted. The two of them were obviously bored of watching from the sidelines.

The Malfoy head raised an eyebrow.

"Of course you haven't," Reinhardt said. "He's an alumnus of the DWMA."

His partner looked equally amused. "The DWMA recruits from all over the world," he said, letting a distinctly Italian lilt color his tone. "And, only the those of _distinguished_ blood are invited by our Lord Headmaster to attend."

"That causes," the German paused. "Oh, what is the _wort_? Rivalries? Yes. Many rivalries amongst the students. Between families, people of different countries, whatever."

"As a result, it's quite common for people at the Academy to hide their true name and origins," Justin said, allowing his French accent to wax as strong as his subordinate's Italian. "I'm hardly an American, but, you'll have to forgive me, if I keep the rest of my background secret."

Malfoy was trained to school his expressions, but, Justin didn't doubt that the man's apathetic veneer was hiding a wave of curiosity.

"You recruit based on bloodlines?" Malfoy asked.

Technically? Yes. You were either born a demon weapon or with a soul powerful enough to be a meister. There was no way of getting around it. One either had the potential, or they didn't, and those traits tended to carry on through families. Not exclusively, but, largely.

So, yes. Just not in the way Malfoy was thinking. But, well, he didn't need to know that.

He had no interest in the Ministry, but, one of Voldemort's followers? That was someone he wouldn't mind having on his side. If it took a bit of subtle information manipulation to appear sympathetic to the man's ideals then, by all means, that's what he'd do.

"Of course," Justin said. "The coursework at the Academy is rigorous. Only those _born_ powerful are able to keep up. You're either good enough, or you're not. There are no exceptions at the DWMA."

Because Lord Death wasn't fond of recruiting powerless civilians and sending them off to die, but, again, Malfoy didn't need to know that.

It was working though. Malfoy looked entirely satisfied with what he was hearing. And, there was something pettily satisfying about the shade of gray Umbridge was turning.

One of her boss's most powerful supporters seemed more and more pleased with him. It'd be interesting to see what effect this conversation was going to have on future interactions.

"It sounds like your Headmaster is an inspired man," Malfoy said.

"Truly," Justin replied, allowing a fervent light to enter his eyes. "There is none greater."

Malfoy smirked. "Well, this has been a fascinating conversation, Professor Law. Perhaps you'd be interested in continuing it later but, for now, I must take my leave. Minister," he tipped his head towards the man and walked away.

"Yes," Fudge said. "Perhaps I'd better do the same. I hope to talk to you soon, Professor Law. I think you and I could be of great use to each other."

With that said, he, Umbridge and the rest of their entourage walked away. Justin and his sat down.

"_Well," _Carracci said. "_That didn't go so badly. Nicely done, Sir."_

"_It's a waste of time," _Justin said. "_I'm counting on you two to get this done quickly. I need to return as soon as possible."_

"_Yes, Death Scythe," _the two said.

Justin stood up to leave.

* * *

"Oh, Lukas," Giuliano said. "Mr. Law accidentally left his briefcase behind.

The German walked over and picked it up. "Well, then, I guess it's up to us to take care of it."

If anyone had been watching, there was no reason to suggest the meeting between them and their superior had been anything more than a casual coincidence.

* * *

**A/N: Well, this is a bizarrely quick update. But I think I'm riding on the "wow, I got a lot of reviews last chapter" high. (They are _very_ motivating guys *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*)**

**Same as last chapter, anyone who leaves a signed review can get a copy of the deleted scenes for this one. There's a little over 1200 words worth of them for this one. And, if you missed last chapter's, no big deal. Just let me know and I'll send both. :)**

**I'm somewhat anti-OC, so apologies for including mine. I couldn't think of any cannon characters who specialized in more covert missions and were specifically affiliated with the European Branch, so I created some instead. Hopefully Giuliano and Lukas weren't totally terrible, haha. Also, as far as titles go, I don't think SE ever really explicitly stated what Death Scythes are called, so I just used Spirit's title as the official one, and incorporated other ideas into Giuliano's speech patterns. ;)**

**And, on another note, everyone I had read this chapter, prior to publishing, asked me where the interpretation of Death's mask thing came from. So, if you're curious, it didn't come from anywhere. I just made it up. It's not cannon at all, haha. Klikskies also aren't cannon. They're just a combination of random letters and my exploitation of Luna's eccentric belief system.**


	12. Chapter 12

In Justin's opinion, Halloween was a day, like any other day. (He held the same belief for New Years, Christmas, Easter, Hanukkah, Thanksgiving, All Saints Day, Eid-Al Fitr, and any other holiday one could possibly think of.) Death didn't take days off and neither did his most devout servant.

His students, on the other hand-

"Mr. Smith," Justin said. "You would be dead three times over if this was real life. Please focus."

The boy didn't outwardly roll his eyes, but his mumbled, "shove off," implied that he obviously wanted to.

None of his students seemed to have caught on to the fact that he could read lips. But, he decided not to call the boy on it. Zacharias Smith was hardly the only one in the class having a hard time paying attention.

Today, he was lecturing. In hindsight, Halloween, especially a Halloween that fell on a Friday, probably wasn't the best time to start having full length orations.

Ironically though, despite the lack of focus from the class, the whole idea of this particular exercise was teaching them to stay alert, even when they had something else drawing their attention.

He was teaching. At the end of class, there would be a short quiz on what he had talked about. However, in addition to his lecture, the aguamenti charm was being used in full force and, at any given point, a stream of water could target any of them. From above, below, behind, to the side, wherever. If they weren't alert to their surroundings, they'd get to spend the lecture soaking wet. If they weren't alert to the lecture, they'd fail the quiz.

The Ravenclaws, despite the danger, were fastidiously taking notes, with focus entirely on him. Several of them though, had lost their notes to the water. So, the ones with good memories would probably do alright at the end, but they were sort of missing the point of the lesson. In reverse, the Hufflepuff's had all but given up on focusing on him and were spending all their energy on defending themselves, to varying degrees of success. They were probably all going to fail the pop quiz, and, like their more studious friends, they were also missing the point of the whole exercise. On the other hand, the number of dry Hufflepuff's to Ravenclaw's was somewhat higher.

Of course, that was only relevant to the kids who were paying attention at all. In reality, pretty much everyone was sopping wet. They were more focused than they'd been at the beginning of the lecture, getting sprayed with freezing water would do that to anyone. But, it was pretty obvious that most of them just wanted to be done with it and head to the Halloween feast.

The Death Scythe would be a mass murderer by now if he'd been using a spell other than _aguamenti_.

Well, he'd just get to teach the drying charm in addition to the rest of his lecture.

Defending yourself wasn't something you somehow _magically _didn't have to worry about during the Holidays. If they had to fail a quiz while being cold and miserable to learn that, then, so be it.

"The amount of water targetting you all is now going to triple. Be prepared."

Cue groans.

* * *

He really didn't understand the fuss.

Sure, the Great Hall was impressively decorated. But, any opportunity to watch his students gorge themselves even more than normal, was one he was okay missing. Beyond that, Halloween had the tendency to be the busiest and, least pleasant, day of the year for him.

For reasons he'd rather not specify.

Actually, this was the first Halloween party he'd been to in years. He avoided the ones at the DWMA like the plague, even though Lord Death invited him every year (although refusing Him always took days of mental preparation on his part) and, the fact that branches in Europe who celebrated Halloween threw their own individual gatherings, meant that he could avoid them completely, under the clause "avoiding favoritism". Didn't want to show up to England's party and not make a presence at the rest of the United Kingdom's. Better to just stay away from all of them, or, at least, that was his go-to excuse.

Realistically though, he just didn't care for anything that had the word "party" attached to it in any way, overtly or vaguely. "Party" was really just a quaint masquerade for "loud, crowded and uncomfortable".

Luckily, the feast at Hogwarts seemed a little more sedate than the parties at the DWMA, but, the increased level of general rowdiness made him glad for the several foot gap between the staff and student tables.

But, realistically, he recognized it could be worse and, he was glad to see that, even with a war looming on the horizon, these people could still be so..._festive. _Happy even.

A part of him was...sort of coming to enjoy his students.

And.

Well.

He was...just...content...to see them happy. Despite his own personal discomfort at the atmosphere.

"Enjoying yourself, Professor Law? The food tonight is fantastic! The house-elves really outdid themselves," Professor Sprout, the teacher to his left, addressed him.

Flitwick, to his right, responded. "They really did! And we haven't even gotten to dessert yet!"

Oh Lord. He took it all back.

Justin smiled weakly. "There's more?"

"Of course there is! The best part is coming up," Sprout grinned widely. "I hope you saved plenty of room. And, watch yourself, that man sitting next to you will poach all the treacle tart if you let him."

"I won't deny it," Flitwick said, laughing.

"You're...welcome to it," Justin said, voice even weaker than his smile.

"You don't like treacle tart?" Flitwick said, sounding appalled. "Professor Law, I just might have to reconsider our friendship," he laughed.

_Friendship? _

"I'm not a big fan of sweets, in general," Justin said, pushing personal confusion to the side, as was his usual habit when it came to interacting with witches and wizards.

"Now that just takes all the fun out of Halloween," Sprout said, shaking her head.

"I usually work during Halloween," Justin said. "So, it's not normally a big deal anyways."

"And why does that not surprise me at all?" Flitwick replied, laughing again.

"Professor Law, you might just be the most serious teenager I've ever met in my whole life," Sprout said. "And, I work with them, so I've met plenty."

The two professors laughed together.

Sprout smiled at him. "Well, it's hardly a bad thing, young man. I can think of several students who would benefit from even a fraction of your work ethi-"

The Herbology professor cut herself off with a coughing fit as a cloud of dark smoke (filled with a pattern of lines and circles that probably looked like a coincidence to most, though Justin recognized it instantly) materialized in front of her Defense counterpart.

"Are you alright, Pomona?" Flitwick said, dissipating the smoke with a quick wand wave. Justin too, looked on with a touch of concern.

(The trio of teachers now had the attention of the majority of the Hall.)

"Fine, yes," Sprout said, coughing again. "Just inhaled some of the smo-Professor Law! Is that what I think it is?"

Justin turned from the other Professor, to look at his plate, (most of his food was now covered in a layer of soot) and tilted his head. Sitting in front of him was a bright, red, envelope.

"I don't-" Justin paused as it floated into the air and ripped itself open. The letter, contrary to how Howler's normally arranged themselves, instead took up the same shape as the DWMA's logo, with white folds and the text swirling around to form the dark circles in Death's mask.

A deep, angry, ominous voice filled the room.

"JUSTIN LAW!"

A few of the younger students shivered, and Justin's eyes widened.

"Hiya~!"

And suddenly, the deep voice turned almost comically high pitched.

Justin immediately started inclining himself towards the paper, "My Lor-"

"Headmaster D, putting the D in the DWMA, in the House! Wazzzzzzzzzup!"

The Howler bounced up and down in time with Lord Death's voice. The vast majority of Hogwarts was watching on with something in between incredulity and laughter.

"Hope you're doin' dandy, kiddo!" the voice cut him off. "I sure am! This is exciting! I haven't gotten to write a Howler in years!"

A Howler? So, a pre-recorded message? Justin didn't entirely understand the purpose but who was he to question the will of God?

"I'm going to send a ton more I think. Howlers for EVERYONE!"

The volume of that particular statement had everyone in the Hall, except Justin, wincing and covering their ears.

"But now, I'm entirely off track. What were we talking about again?" The owner of the Howler snapped their fingers. "That's right! You! I was gonna talk about you!"

"Me?" Justin asked, looking more confused then he had been while discussing..._friendship._

"How long has it been now, Justin? I can't believe how fast time is going'! Just think! It was only five years ago, now, since you blew through the Academy! The DWMA's youngest graduate, ever! You used to be so cute~ and little~! And now, look at you! Well, I mean, I can't see ya' right now, but you get the point! Anyways~! Ahem! What I'm trying to say is~ Happy Eighteenth Birthday! *sniff* They grow up so fast!"

The letter paused for few seconds before starting again.

"OH! I almost forgot!" the Howler started spinning rapidly. "No one knew how to send stuff to Hogwarts so I told them I'd get it to you!"

The Howler spun around for a few more seconds before exploding into an array of color. The Death Scythe pushed his chair back to avoid the, rapidly growing, pile of cards and presents, a motion mirrored by his colleagues to the right and left. Their desire to be buried in paper, cardboard and ribbons was obviously just as nonexistent as his own.

He inwardly _mourned_ as Hogwarts watched on in shock.

The pile didn't seem to be slowing down at all.

Which meant that, just like in previous years, he was going to be writing a mountain of thank you cards in the next few days. (And he really did not have time for that, especially this year _specifically_!) Why the vast majority of his division felt it necessary to send him gifts, he'd never know.

At least, in the past few years, they'd matured the presents up a bit. When he'd been the thirteen year-old branch leader, the amount of candy and toys he'd gotten had been _obscene_ and well, as rude as it was to say, completely _useless_.

At least now he could count on ties and pens and gift-cards. Still...useless. But, at least, not also entirely _juvenile._

The pile continued to grow for a few seconds and then another puff of smoke appeared at the top of the several meter high pile.

Howler, the second, floated down towards him.

"Anyways~ Good luck at Hogwarts! Happy birthday! And ttyl! I'm out!"

Howler II followed the path of its predecessor, and exploded, this time into scraps of paper instead of gifts, much to Justin's inner relief.

Oh, to be blessed with his Lord's voice! But, in so bitter a circumstance. He didn't know whether to mourn or praise.

"Well," Flitwick looked at the pile with wide eyes and coughed once to gain his bearings. "Well. You're awfully popular, Professor Law. Happy Birthday, I suppose."

"He's only eighteen?!" the Weasley twins yelled, in unison.

...mourn...definitely mourn. He'd have to repent later for his disrespect to the Reaper.

* * *

A Few Days Later-

_Meister Graye:_

_Thank you for your gift. I appreciate your continued support and shall make a note to use your pen as often as possible in future writing endeavors._

_From,_

_Justin Law_

_DWMA-DS-European Branch_

Justin stuck the letter in an envelope and addressed it to the Scotland branch. He shook his hand out to relieve it of a writing cramp.

"Five-hundred and seventy-seven pens alone. Good Lord Death, why must you try me so?"

* * *

**A/N: I have fanart for this chapter! Feel free to check out "It's Very Late at Night! Artist Promoting Fanfics?" by lilliparadox on Deviantart. She's sort of like my IRL beta reader and she doodled some pics of Justin angsting while we were discussing/making fun of this chapter! And, as always, a big thanks to my official beta, 1000 Faces of Pain! She's super awesome! Both of them are!**

**This chapter is obviously almost entirely humor. Don't take it too seriously, haha. Straight humor is definitely not my preferred writing style. ****That said, this chapter is specifically intended to be an interlude that marks the break between what I consider Part 1 and Part 2 of the story. We have one or two more chapters before things pick up _entirely_, but, by in large, this is the last of the set-up stages. So, I figured some sort of break was necessary before things really start moving.**

**As far as Justin's birthday being on Halloween goes, that's a headcannon. According to my timeline, it has to be sometime around then. The Kishin was resurrected on Halloween, Justin was introduced late fall, aged seventeen, they battled Asura during the winter, Justin did his own stuff during the spring, Voldemort was resurrected over the summer, and then Justin ended up at Hogwarts during the fall. It's been exactly a year now, and Justin was seventeen at the beginning of this story, so he either needed to be eighteen already, be born on Halloween or just a little after. I figured Halloween worked.**

**I don't really have deleted scenes for this chapter. Unless you want a couple dozen words worth of scrapped lines here and there, haha. If you're really interested, I can send them, but, I'm assuming most people won't be. :) That said, feel free to ask for the last two chapters, if you missed them! (And don't feel like you can't just review anyways, ;))**


	13. Chapter 13: Part One

She'd miscalculated.

Madam Umbridge realized that, fully.

The Auditor huffed irritatedly, quietly, and tapped her quill on the edge of her clipboard for a few seconds, only pausing once the teacher, Professor Mcgonagall, sent her a dark look. She stopped and smiled primly, not quite apologetic for the disruption, not quite ignoring the other woman's irritation either.

The Transfigurations master's expression remained critical but, she turned away, and continued lecturing to the class. Umbridge though, wasn't really paying much attention to her lesson.

Realistically, sitting in on this particular class was a formality more than anything. The Deputy Headmistress was competent, stern and relied heavily on a strong theoretical foundation. Other than her staunch support of Dumbledore, she was pretty much the epitome of everything the Ministry wanted. Obviously, if the Auditor could find a way to remove the woman, that would be extremely convenient, (the more of Dumbledore's followers they could discredit the better) but the chances of doing so were slim.

She, along with the majority of Dumbledore's core staff, "The Order" (and she was determined to find out exactly what that was) were pretty much untouchable.

Other professors however, not so much. There were a few potential targets. Trelawney, for example, was completely incompetent. At the rate the Divination class was going, the Auditor would have an ally taking over the 'seer's' position within the week.

But, again, that was obvious, just as obvious as her inability to affect Mcgonagall was.

On the other hand, there was something much less obvious working its way into Hogwarts. Her _miscalculation. _

Justin Law.

The boy, the child, the insolent, under qualified, _teenager, _irked her to no end. She'd been fully prepared to run him out of Hogwarts, as soon as possible, and absorb his position into the scope of her duties. He might have beaten her to the punch by getting the job first, but, at the end of the day, it would have been her, crossing the finish line.

However, things had recently changed.

First off, the boy was a blood purist. Meaning that he was, most likely, firmly against Dumbledore, or, at the very least, unsympathetic to his cause. He could have been an ally to her from day one. Alienating him had been unnecessary, _pointless_.

Not to mention, _apparently_, he was a good teacher, if the word around campus was to be believed. She had assumed age would walk hand in hand with incompetence but, now, she was worried about her ability to take over his job at all. Not to mention, he was a graduate of the DWMA. And, if communication _directly _from the Headmaster and, the pile of birthday presents he had received a few weeks ago, were to be believed, one of some, or even _much,_ influence.

A blood purist, on speaking terms with the leader of the _DWMA! _It was jarring to have made such an error, to have so thoroughly misjudged someone's importance. Her whole career had been built on her ability to recognize, and cater to, people in power. She had an eye for it. She'd always had an eye for it. To have miscalculated to this degree, _well, _there was a reason it was three weeks into November and she still hadn't paid a visit to Mister-_Professor-_Law's class.

She needed more power.

The Auditor didn't even have the ability to discipline students, let alone go toe to toe with the more influential members of the staff, a group, Professor Law was doing an excellent job ingratiating himself into. He had true allies, _she _was barely tolerated, an observer whose only real influence came from the possibility of Ministry backing.

But, if the Malfoys were genuinely interested the boy, _well_, then she didn't even have that to use against him.

...

_How had this happened?_

How on Earth did the _one_ person she had truly wanted to get rid of, manage to become one of the few people she truly _couldn't_? Sure, she'd be happy to remove as much of Dumbledore's staff as possible, but, Justin Law, a young, friendless, foreign, _powerless,_ stranger, had been her first priority. Quickly get rid of him, take over his position, and use that foothold to gain more power. She needed to be staff herself. The ability to '_observe' _could only get her so far.

Unfortunately, becoming a full-fledged member of Hogwart's work force was looking less and less likely, daily. The only professors she had any real chance of removing, were ones whose positions she wasn't qualified for.

And that meant, as inconvenient as the whole situation was, it was time to change plans.

She was going to have to figure out if Professor Law was the type that held grudges. If she couldn't acquire her own power, she'd have to find someone else's to rely on. Like her, he was a newcomer. That meant, also like her, he was one of the few not sycophantically devoted to Dumbledore, making him as good a starting point as any.

Perhaps his budding friendship with the other staff members was purely that, him looking to make friends. Or, perhaps, he was just as interested in acquiring power as her. He'd obviously known what he was doing when he'd been talking to Malfoy and the Minister. The conversation the three of them had shared spoke of _something _resembling experience on his part, much more than she'd expect a seventeen, now eighteen, year old boy to have.

If that was the case, if he had slightly more ulterior motives for his presence at Hogwarts, maybe she could convince him that working together would be mutually beneficial. Most likely he would want nothing to do with her, but it _probably_ wouldn't cost her anything to try.

Umbridge stood up, and exited the room, ignoring the second irritated look the other woman shot her as she disrupted the class again.

* * *

Professor Law had a prep period, part of her reason for leaving Transfigurations early.

She opened the door to his classroom and looked around.

It was...surprisingly tasteful, impressive even, for a teenaged boy. Did he really have to be good at _everything? _Even his decorating was well done.

The professor himself was sitting at the desk at the front of the class with a pile of books. He was holding a large text up in one hand and was taking notes with the other. He also had several pieces of parchment floating around him, which all seemed to be moving in time with some sort of pattern she wasn't privy to. They looked like tests though.

He noticed her almost as soon as she walked in, and nodded once towards her. She smiled, which had him pausing his writing and looking at her more fully. He set the book down and she took that as invitation to approach the front of the room.

"Professor Law," she smiled again. "Good afternoon."

"The same to you, Madame," he replied.

"I thought I would audit your class today, if it's not too much of an inconvenience," she said.

"You're welcome to sit anywhere," he said, waving a hand around the room and turning back to his notes.

He obviously wasn't interested in conversation. But, she often got the impression that he never really was.

"I appreciate it, Professor."

"Of course," he replied, not bothering to look up from his work.

"If you don't mind," she said. "I'd like to ask you some questions about your class. It's just protocol, nothing too difficult."

The boy still wasn't looking at her. For all the effort he put into coming off as mannerly, he was incredibly rude sometimes. If he didn't want to talk to you, he really put minimal effort into hiding it. (And he was Still. Wearing. That. _Cross._)

"I apologize, but I'm in the middle of something right now. Later, maybe?"

Insufferable_, little-! _She shoved down her anger and smiled wider. "It really is important that we get this done as soon as possible, Professor Law."

"I'm sure you're correct," he said. "I'll be sure to make some time for you when I'm able."

Her smile strained just a bit but she managed to hold it in place. "Alright then. Let's plan a day. Does next Tuesday work? I believe you have a free period in the early afternoon."

"I'll have to consult my schedule."

"I have a copy of it right here, Professor."

"I'll be sure to look at it as soon as possible."

She barely managed to avoid snapping the pen in her hands. His, an actual pen, not a quill, continued scratching against whatever he was working on.

She couldn't do it. Her next statement was coated in false sweetness. "Professor Law, you are being quite uncooperative. This whole process will be much smoother if we make at least _some _effort to work together."

"I apologize," total monotone.

She smiled again, large and completely fake. "And I accept. Does this Tuesday work then?"

"I'll let you know once I've looked over my schedule."

This time she did snap the quill.

She 'tsked' and reached into her pockets to get out her wand, but the pen was already repairing itself and the stains on her hand faded away. The Defense professor's wand was out of sight before she had even drew hers.

Was he trying to assist her? Or making a statement? Quicker on the draw? Faster spell caster? Powerful enough to perform without incantations? 'Let me help you with that' or '_Back off'_?

He definitely wasn't the easiest person in the world to read.

It was time to take a step back. She wasn't likely to win him over in one conversation, especially one where he had a reason to ignore her. Later then. She'd play the game and schedule an appointment if she had to.

But, for now, she was going to sit and see what all the fuss was about.

* * *

There was a blob of pink lace in his seat.

The Malfoy heir recognized her. It was hard to forget someone like Dolores Umbridge. He had to wonder if her dress sense was designed specifically for that reason. Attractive? Not at all. Memorable? Very. And, if you planned to build your whole career by making connections with (_leeching _off) influential people, then being memorable was important. She didn't really have much going for her in the looks department, so playing peacock was probably her only real option.

Or, maybe, she just _really_ _liked_ pink. There was no accounting for bad taste sometimes.

He smirked, and gestured for Crabbe and Goyle to follow him. She was someone of more or less importance, depending on whomever she happened to be attached to at any given point but, right now, that person was the Minister. It couldn't hurt to talk to her a bit.

"Madame Umbridge, good morning."

"Mr. Malfoy," she nodded at him. "It's always a pleasure to see you."

"Are you inspecting Professor Law's class today?" he asked, refusing to reciprocate _that _particular statement (being around _toads_ was never a pleasure) and sitting down next to her. Crabbe and Goyle remained standing behind him.

"That's correct," she hmmed. "I was planning to interview students after the lesson, but I suppose it doesn't hurt to start early. Tell me, what are your opinions on Defense Against the Dark Arts this year?"

His opinions? That was a hard question. A part of him was still a bit bitter about the scene at the beginning of the year. But, the other part, actively enjoyed the class now that he'd been in it for awhile.

His father also had his own thoughts on the matter. The head of the Malfoys wanted him to attempt to befriend the teacher, who, he had recently discovered, wasn't that much older than him.

Although, truthfully, he didn't even know how to attempt to begin that particular task. The Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor was a bit of an enigma around campus. His class was slowly becoming one of everyone's favorites. But, Professor Law never spoke about anything other than his subject.

Where he came from? Likes, dislikes, motivations, background. Nothing. No one knew anything about him.

(Other than what had been revealed on Halloween, although that display had brought up more questions than it had resolved.)

"Professor Law-" was sitting at the front of the room. He hesitated a bit before continuing.

"Professor Law is very interesting. His class is one of my favorites."

"Oh," her smile disappeared. "Do you have any complaints?"

Draco looked at the other teenager sitting at his desk and then back to the Auditor. "None whatsoever. It's refreshing actually, to finally have a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who isn't incompetent."

"Oh," her lips pursed. "Well, thank you, I appreciate your opinions."

"I'm sure," he replied.

With that said, the two of them turned towards the front of the room, as the teacher stood up. Most of the class had filtered in during their conversation and it was obviously time to start.

"Welcome, everyone," Law said, from his place on the center of the raised stage. "This is the last class before break so I thought we might do something a bit different today. The past few months have been spent learning about pure defense. Shield spells, defensive casting, moving around, things of that nature, so, today, I thought we'd spend some time learning how to retaliate."

For her place at his side, Umbridge choked.

Professor Law turned to look at her, but she smiled widely and motioned for him to continue. But her expression rapidly devolved into one of extreme irritation once he looked away.

This was going to be _very _interesting.

* * *

**A/N: We've been hearing from Justin a lot lately, so I decided to write something from the perspective of some of the other cast members. I thought it might be interesting to see what his actions look like when he's not internally justifying them. Plus, Umbridge is kind of interesting in her own right and Malfoy is somewhat outside my comfort zone, so I had fun exploring them.**

**As you've probably noticed, this chapter is split into two parts. It's sort of weird to post something and not follow it up with some sort of time skip. But, this chapter was shaping up to be ridiculously long, so I decided to cut it in half. Next chapter is still a work in progress but it should be a bit more exciting than just reading about Umbridge's internal monologues, haha. **

**Deleted scenes for this chapter are variations in the conversations between Umbridge and Justin, as well as a scene from an earlier chapter that largely inspired this one. As always, if you're interested in reading them, just leave a signed review and I will get them to you. And I'm always happy to send ones from earlier chapters too! :D **

**And, apologies for not responding to everyone last chapter. It's finals season and I have been incredibly busy! But, on a happier note, this chapter marks the hundred page mark for this story, which is pretty exciting! It's definitely one of my longer ones now. :)**


	14. Chapter 13: Part Two

Professor Law obviously hadn't been hired for his public speaking skills, and the woman in pink, who ever she was, obviously hadn't been hired for her sense of courtesy.

Professor Law's voice occasionally fluctuated louder than it needed to be but, the woman sitting in the front row, was _constantly_ louder than she needed to be, as she drug her quill across whatever she was writing on, "hemming" and "hahing" and "oohing" and "aahing", in response to whatever their teacher happened to be saying at any point in time.

It was _beyond _rude, and it was driving Hermione _crazy_.

Normally, she didn't like to let little things like that bother her. However, having to sit behind someone noisy and impolite, and listen to them criticize an incredibly interesting lecture, under their breath, was starting to get a bit frustrating.

Ron and Harry, each sitting to either side of her, were both wearing equally annoyed expressions. They probably weren't nearly as interested in the lecture as she was, but constant high-pitched hums had the potential to be extremely irritating, regardless of the situation.

"Expelliarmus?" Professor Law said, nodding at the speaker. "Creative application, Mister Zabini."

"Hmm," the voice said, from just in front of them.

Ron wrote a note on the edge of his paper, and gestured for the two of them to read it. '_srsly! shut __UP__!' _

Harry laughed quietly and Hermione quirked a small grin, before adding her own note.

'_Don't be rude, Ron.'_

'_it's tru tho' _Harry scribbled on his paper. '_this lady is driving me mad'_

'_absolutely bonkers'_ Ron agreed.

'_Just try to ignore it.' _Hermione wrote.

'_i dont think thats possible' _Ron replied.

'_shes worse then a shrew'_

'_we should rename her Madame Mandrake'_

'_isnt her title Hogwarts Auditor of General Business?'_

'_something like that'_

'_we should just shorten it to HAG.'_

'_harry you are genius'_

'_Be nice.'_

'_dont be kiljoy hermione harys a genius'_

'_And your spelling is atrocious.'_

"Professor Law, that's _completely_ ridiculous."

"I'm afraid I have to disagree with you, Madame Umbridge."

The trio's attention snapped towards the front of the room. The classroom had gone nearly silent.

Hermione's brow furrowed.

She'd missed something while writing notes.

Professor Law's expression was even more discontent though. He'd crossed his arms and was looking at the woman's row, with an almost imperceptible frown.

"Professor Law, I've let your lesson go on for quite a bit now. But, really, you don't _honestly _believe what you're teaching is all that important, do you?"

"Of course I-"

"-I mean, it's not like any of these students will ever truly be in a position to use the information in this class. I mean, who's looking to harm children-"

"-oh, I don't know," Harry hissed, angrily under his breath. "Voldemort, maybe?"

"What did you say, Mister _Potter_?" Umbridge replied, swiveling herself and her attention towards him.

At the front of the room, Professor Law's arms unfolded and he stood up, perfectly straight. He was watching the two with a wary expression, which, in addition to his obvious frustration, was quite possibly the most emotion Hermione had ever seen on him.

"You heard me," Harry said sullenly. He hadn't actually meant for his statement to be audible to anyone other than his two friends, but he wasn't going to recant it either.

"I'm quite positive I heard wrong, young man," she trilled, smiling widely. "Unless you were lying?"

"Lying?!" Harry yelled. "About what? Voldemort?"

Umbridge, and the majority of the class, flinched. (Professor Law didn't though, which was interesting. But, his non-reaction could possibly be attributed to the fact that he was from the States.)

"Do not say that name, Mister Potter!" Umbridge replied, somewhat shakily. "Regardless of what you might think, you are _not _special. And he-who-must-not-be-named has _not _returned!"

"So, what? Cedric Diggory killed himself then?" Harry said.

"Cedric Diggory was a tragic accident-"

"-Cedric was murdered! By Voldemort!" He stood up, and faced her fully.

"You listen here, Mister Potter, you are a delusional, attention-seeking, troublemaker_. _And I will be writing to the Minister about this. This sort of behavior is unacceptable, and changes. _Will. Be. Made._"

"That's hardly necessary," Professor Law cut in smoothly. "As Mister Potter will be spending the next few evenings in detention, with me. I apologize for the disruption, Madame, but there's no need to trouble the Minister over something so insignificant." He shot Harry a sharp look. "Sit down. See me after class."

Harry nodded mutely and fell back into his seat. His hands were shaking angrily, and he stiffly picked up his quill and hunched over his notes.

Umbridge smiled smugly from her spot in the back.

"I will not be tolerating any more interruptions," Professor Law said. The line was delivered calmly, but there was a hint of steel underneath it. "At this point, it'll be easier to just move on to the practical."

He waved his wand and the front of the room expanded backwards several meters. A few walls grew from the floor, to split the area into three long, narrow hallways and the lights in the room dimmed dramatically.

Umbridge's expression quickly turned more shocked than smug. But, Professors Law's advanced transfiguration skills had a habit of doing that to almost everyone.

"This practical isn't overly complicated," he said. "Because we are practicing offensive casting, that's what this exercise will be focused on. For the sake of safety, you'll be taking turns, in groups of three. Each of these hallways," he gestured towards his transfigured set up. "Is about the same size as a typical back alley. At the end of the 'alley', there will be a target shooting at you. All you need to do is hit it, with any spell, and it will stop. If you get hit more than five times before you've managed to cast back, then your turn will be over."

He stepped in front of one of the hallways and held his wand up. Within moments, a quintet of colored splats were caught on a rapidly conjured shield charm, and more continued to pelt it. However, a few seconds was all it took for a stupefy to shoot down the alley, and the bombardment of color on Professor Law's Protego came to an immediate halt.

"_Holy-_!" someone said, from the back of the room.

"Professor," another person said. "That's hardly fair. No one can cast like that. How are we supposed to defend ourselves from something that fast? I couldn't even see them coming at you."

"That's correct," Justin said. "No witch or wizard could cast spells that quickly. However, what will be shooting at you, is a muggle weapon, called a paintball gun. They _are _that fast."

"_What?!"_ Malfoy said, from his spot in the back. "You don't honestly expect us to believe that?"

"Regardless of what your personal beliefs are, Mister Malfoy, muggles do, in fact, have weapons much faster than spells. In reality, paintball guns aren't even particularly quick _or _powerful compared to others they've created. But, that's a discussion for another day. I'm sure Professor Burbage could answer any questions you might have about that."

He went back to addressing the rest of the class. "Just so you're all aware, in real life, a paintball gun usually won't be life threatening. However, they can cause serious welts and bruising. In order to mitigate that, I've charmed the balls these ones are shooting to explode immediately on contact, with anything. So, they shouldn't hurt, but you will definitely get covered in paint if you're not careful."

"Hem, hem, Professor Law-"

"Are there any other questions?"

"Ahem, Professor Law-"

"Yes, Mister Malfoy?"

"Professor Law, hem, hem-"

"More dangerous variants shoot pieces of metal and can be quite a bit faster."

"Hem, hem! Professor Law-"

"Anyone else?"

"Professor Law! Hem, hem!"

"Yes, Madame Umbridge?" he asked, dryly acknowledging her. "What's your question?"

"What's my question?" she screeched. She tapped her quill a few times on the edge of her paper and sighed loudly. "What's my question, Professor Law? At this point, it would be more accurate to ask what I don't _question _about this lesson. Offensive casting? Practicals? From start to finish-"

"-is this practical too easy?" he asked.

"I have questioned-" she paused. "I'm sorry, _what_?"

"Well, they are only muggle weapons, after all," he said. Enough was enough. She was testing the boundaries of his impressively large patience. (A necessity in his line of work. Running a branch of the DWMA was a constant exercise in keeping calm.) "I did worry that this exercise would fall _below_ Ministry expectations. I'm sure a witch of your caliber would find it entirely too easy."

"Well, of course," she sniffed. "It's a muggle device. Anyone with half an ounce of talent could out cast it."

_Too easy. _

(Almost surprisingly so. Umbridge wasn't the type to let herself be so easily manipulated.)

Justin paused to consider his next line, not quite sure just how much to _push, _before continuing. "In that case, I'm sure the students would appreciate a demonstration. I, myself, would be extremely interested in seeing the abilities of a fully fledged, Ministry official. If you wouldn't mind?"

She puffed up a bit. The blatant flattery was obviously working. "That's hardly appropriate, Professor Law. I'd rather this lesson didn't continue at all." But not quite working enough.

"If that's what you'd prefer," Justin said, nodding politely. "Then I'll defer to your judgement. Like you've told me in the past, you are the more experienced one, when it comes to teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. There's no need to _prove_ yourself."

"It's hardly a matter of _proving_ myself, Professor," she replied sourly, glow from the previous compliments vanishing.

"No. Of course not. Apologies if I implied that. Obviously, if it isn't Ministry approved curriculum, then there's no reason you'd need to be able to beat a muggle weapon," neutral, polite grin.

"Ministry approved curriculum or not, there's no reason I _couldn't_ beat a muggle weapon," she said caustically.

"I'm sure," he replied, nodding again, eyes closing as he grinned wider. He allowed them to open slowly and stared expectantly at her.

Her own narrowed in response. "Fine, Professor," she said. "In that case, I'd be happy to facilitate the learning environment. Thank you for the opportunity," she smirked. "And, after I pass this little '_practical'_, you and I are going to sit down and have a _long_ discussion about what does, and does _not, _constitute an appropriate lesson, among other things."

"_If_ you pass it," Justin replied evenly.

"_When _I pass it_,_" she retorted, walking towards the front of the room.

It was best just to humor him, she decided. She'd come in, hoping to get along, but, if he was going to be purposefully antagonistic, (in addition to his lessons being the _worst_ possible scenario, for the Ministry's end goals) then she'd put him in his place first.

Because, even though the situation was frustrating, it had also confirmed something to her.

She _really_ wanted him on her side. His magic was...incredibly powerful. And, perhaps more importantly, his reaction to Potter's outburst had been quick, and distinctly _negative_. It was becoming more and more clear, that she and he had very similar opinions, on some very important core issues.

He also had some talent for language. His attempt to manipulate her into doing what he wanted was fairly blatant, to anyone with half a brain, _but_, he was still doing quite a bit better than she'd expect most eighteen year olds to be capable of. With a bit of training, he could probably even become an expert.

"Which one should I stand in front of, Professor?" she asked, as she reached the front of the room, stowing her thoughts away for later.

"The middle is fine. Let me know when you're ready," he said, as she positioned herself.

"On your mark then," she replied, raising her wand.

A red splotch on her forehead, and a green blotch on her outfit, appeared almost immediately. She let out a little squeak of shock and took a step back, allowing another to hit her on the stomach.

"Pr-protego!" she yelled.

The shield shimmered into existence and caught three more splashes of orange, blue, and pink. However, two more slipped underneath her spell, which she had only conjured from head to mid-thigh (A bad habit Justin had noticed of wizards and witches, which was largely the reason for having the shots aim lower. The goal was to have it broken in his students by the end of the year.) and hit her on both knees.

"That's five," he said, waving his wand and bring the barrage to a halt. "Twelve seconds, good job, Madame. That's quite a bit longer than I expected the students to last."

She sputtered angrily as paint dripped down her face. "Professor Law-"

"I assume you'll want to go clean yourself off," he smiled. "That paint can't be vanished."

"What?! This outfit is silk!" she screamed.

"Then you'd better be quick about getting it cleaned," he replied.

Her faced turned bright red, she pointed angrily, "Now you listen here-" and then coughed as a drop of paint fell in her mouth. She shot him another fierce glare as she coughed a few times.

"Don't worry, this paint isn't toxic," Justin said helpfully, with a small grin in place. "Still, if I were you, I'd go wash my mouth out. I doubt it tastes good."

"No," cough. Cough. "It," cough. "Doesn't," cough. Cough. Cough. Cough.

She shot him another glare and whirled around to face the door.

"Feel free to stop in again," he said, as she starting walking out of the room. "I'm sure the students would appreciate future demonstrations."

She almost turned around and hexed him.

But, instead, she stomped her way into the hallway. She began walking towards her room, face still red, an equal result of anger, embarrassment, and paint spatters. A few students were loitering in the halls, but they were wise enough to recognize that getting out of the colorfully stained auditor's path, was the best possible choice.

How _dare-_! She nearly snarled out loud in the middle of hallway, as it was, she barely restrained herself to a loud, irritated huff of indignation. Her next show of anger was slamming the door to her living quarters open.

She instantly flicked her wand and blew apart the row of kitten themed plates hanging above her bed. Porcelain rained down on her mattress, and the sight of that pulled her a bit out of her blind fury.

Still! Her outfit, her bedroom, her _job_!

Professor Law had a special talent for ruining everything.

And she was sure there was a _special_ place reserved for him in _hell_! Or whatever it was _Catholicisms _believed in.

She blew up another row of plates and took a deep breath. Her violent wand movements had splattered paint and glass across the room. And, for what? Because of an obnoxious teenager? She took another shuddering breath and lowered her wand.

She was, beyond angry, livid even, but she needed a shower. And a house elf. Hopefully they'd be able to fix whatever Law had done to her robes.

As for Law himself, well, she'd think about him _later._

* * *

Harry watched as the last of the class walked through the veil of light Professor Law had conjured. His statement, that the paint couldn't be vanished using conventional means, wasn't a lie. But, luckily, he wasn't cruel enough to make them go to their next class covered in color, and had come up with an alternate way for his students to be rid of it. Anyone who walked through the shimmering curtain came out on the other side, stain free. (And the fact that he hadn't felt the need to tell Umbridge that, was mildly hilarious.)

"Well, that was intense," Hermione said, as she picked up her school bag.

"The lesson? Or the Umbridge/Law showdown?" Ron said, laughing.

"Both," she replied, looking a bit graver than her red-haired friend.

"I still have to go talk to Professor Law," Harry said, sighing irritably.

"Do you want us to wait for you?" Ron said.

"No, it's fine. I'll catch up later."

"Okay, we'll see you in a bit then," Hermione said.

"Yeah. I'll see you," he replied.

Harry watched, as the two left, and then walked towards the front of the room.

Professor Law was moving his wand around and spelling the transfigured class back to normal, but he stopped, and turned around almost instantly, once Harry came within easy conversation distance.

"Um, you wanted to talk to me, Professor?" he said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. In his mind, getting a detention, for what he had said in the lecture (the truth!), wasn't fair.

Professor Law nodded and Harry realized it was the first time he had ever talked one on one with the, only slightly older, teacher. Up close, he noticed that the other teenager had a weird eye color and white crosses on his sleeves, in addition to the one he always wore around his neck. His wand too, was odd looking. It was colored more like a knife, than a piece of wood, and it had a stylized skull between the handle and the rest of it.

Really, he didn't know what to think about the Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher. Professor Law was a good teacher, with interesting lectures and exercises, but, also a very strict, and a very serious one. Which was a bit of a turn off. Plus, the events of the class had left Harry a little confused. Was Professor Law in favor of the Ministry, or firmly against them? He'd agreed with Umbridge at first, and then proceeded to humiliate her in front of the entire class.

It _painted_ a very unclear picture.

"That's right, Mr. Potter," he said, breaking him out of his thoughts. "When would it be convenient for you to serve detention with me?"

"Sorry, sir?" Harry said, not quite knowing what the professor meant.

"My evenings are usually open," Law replied. "Just pick a few days that work for you, and bring something to do for an hour or two."

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't understand-"

"I'm not looking to punish you, Mister Potter. Voldemort _is_ back."

Harry's eyes widened.

"And, even if your Ministry doesn't want to hear that, it doesn't mean I'm going to abandon one of my students to them either-"

"-You were protecting me from the Ministry? From that Umbridge lady?" Harry blurted out, interrupting the Professor.

Professor Law paused awkwardly for several seconds before continuing, looking a bit embarrassed. "...I guess you could look at it like that."

"But, _why_?" Harry said, incredulously.

"It's," another pause. "...my job. To watch out for you, the students. I'm a teacher now," he trailed off again.

"Most of the of the other professors don't see it that way," Harry muttered cynically, in response to the few moments of silence.

Justin stifled a sighed and inwardly scrambled for the right thing to say...dealing with teenaged angst was not in his repertoire of skills.

"I think you'd be surprised. Most of the teachers at Hogwarts care very much about their students."

Harry snorted. "Sorry, if I don't really believe that. The adults in my life haven't been very helpful lately."

_Really_ not in his repertoire.

"Well, anyways, it was no problem, Mister Potter," he said, looking to change the subject. "If Umbridge was a real threat, I wouldn't have wasted class time pelting her with paintballs."

"Genius, by the way," Harry replied, with a small grin.

"That woman could test a Saint's patience," Justin murmured, mostly to himself.

Harry laughed.

He continued, slightly louder, "But, like I was saying, if she was a real issue, I would be a bit more cautious in dealing with her. However, she's not. So, don't worry too much about it. She can't really do anything to hurt you and, even if she could, I think I was successful in stopping her from trying to, for the time being at least. Just, be a bit more cautious in the future, and you'll do fine."

"I-thank you, Professor," Harry said, still a bit shocked.

Professor Law looked embarrassed again. "Really, it wasn't a problem, Mister Potter."

Huh. So, Professor Law actually had a soul underneath all the militant efficiency. Harry grinned gratefully and decided to answer the teacher's original question.

"Monday, Tuesday, and Sunday evenings are probably my least busy," Harry said.

"Alright," Law said, looking a touch relieved as the conversation turned. "Then we'll plan for this Sunday, after dinner. My office is just next door, you can meet me there."

"I'll see you Sunday then. Thanks again, Professor."

* * *

"Clean this mess up," Umbridge said, gesturing both at her discarded, paint streaked clothes, and the shards of glass littering various areas throughout her room.

"Yes, Madame Auditor," the house elf (disgusting creatures) said, bowing low.

"And be quick about it, or I'll have your ears ironed," Umbridge replied, sitting down at her desk and taking a sip of the tea the elf had brought.

"Yes, Madame," it said, disappearing with a sharp crack.

It was smarter than most of the elves that came to her room. It knew how to speak little and leave quickly. There was nothing more annoying than a slave that liked to _loiter._ ("Do you need anything else, Madame?" "If I needed anything else, I would have _told _you." "Deepest apologies-" "Tut, tut, that's not going to cut it, _dearie_.")

She smirked a bit, if she didn't have work to do, she wouldn't mind blowing off some steam via punishing Hogwarts' resident house elves. As it was though, she had more important things to worry about.

She'd put some serious thought into the situation, and it was time to accept that she had failed. Professor Law obviously wasn't interested in teaming up anytime soon, and she didn't have enough leverage on her side to make him.

He was a crafty little brat. That much was even more obvious then before. Somehow he'd managed to find a neat little niche for himself, both at Hogwarts, and even in the wizarding world as a whole. (After only _one_ conversation!) His presence was like a carrot on a stick, dangling in front of the noses of some very powerful people.

A very talented, intelligent, and connected carrot.

Though, carrot or not, her inability to keep her thoughts to herself, during his lecture, had cost her a potentially very useful ally. Hmph, she'd probably lost him even before that, really. She'd wanted the Defense Against the Dark Arts position so badly, she'd alienated him from the start.

For now, becoming allies was out of the question. He wasn't interested, and she was angry. That meant, when it came to him, her only other option was going back to attempting to remove the young professor from the school entirely.

Unfortunately, she wasn't sure that was even a possibility anymore.

If she put some work into talking him into it, the Minister would probably support any attempts on her part to get rid of Law. But, Dumbledore would fight to keep him, as he would for any of his staff, and Malfoy was a bit of a wild card. His son seemed to like the class, (and Malfoy senior never missed an opportunity to spoil his son) and, if _she_ had recognized the potential gain in making friends with the DWMA alumnus, it was likely that Lucius Malfoy had too. Whether or not that was enough for him to kick up a fuss when it came to getting rid of Law, she didn't know. However, she couldn't entirely factor out the possibility either.

And, well, while she didn't personally care for his teaching style, (hated it, in fact) he was still...competent. If she submitted his lesson for review, it wouldn't be enough to get him thrown out. The Board of Governors might even be in favor of his unorthodox teaching style.

In general, there were too many factors to consider, and too many burned bridges, if she failed. The last person she wanted to go toe to toe with, in the political sphere, was a Malfoy, and even Professor Law had the potential to be a big player in the years to come. The last thing she wanted was to antagonize him and have it come back to bite her five, ten, fifteen years from now, when the only thing he remembered about her was the fact that she'd lost him his first job in the UK.

So, it was time to step out of that particular game. She was sick of playing against such bad odds. Professor Law was just going to have to remain that. Professor. And she was just going to have to accept that they weren't going to be friends anytime soon, because, at the end of the day, she hadn't come to Hogwarts to parley with a single foreigner. She'd come to gain intel on Dumbledore and his people, a group Law barely fit into, if at all. He was a problem, but hardly her greatest, or most pressing one.

There were bigger, more important things for her to work on.

It was time to regroup and refocus on what actually mattered.

* * *

The Italian took a sip of his coffee and smiled widely at the large structure across the street.

"Gringotts is incredible, Lukas," he said, speaking German in an attempt to ward off potential eavesdroppers. Their conversations were purposefully casual whenever they were out in the open, but, 'better safe than sorry', was their team motto.

"I suppose," his partner replied, taking a drink of his own beverage. (Water, the rifle was vehemently opposed to anything overly sweet or addictive, which ruled out almost everything but.)

"I'm thinking of transferring all of my assets there."

"You trust it that much?"

Giuliano laughed. "Well, we should probably test out their security first."

* * *

**A/N: Hello! Sorry this chapter took so long to get out. I always think I'm going to be super productive over the winter holidays, because of all the free time I'm supposedly going have, but it never seems to work out that way, haha. On the other hand, it's pretty long, so I hope that makes up for the wait. **

**Anyways, I am having some problems with my email. Some reviews either haven't been showing up in my inbox, or don't show up until days after the review has been posted. And, while I've made some effort to keep up on them, just by checking fanfiction, I may have missed a few. If so, I apologize if I didn't respond to you. **

**Because of that, I'm rethinking my deleted-scene sharing policy. For now, I'm going to keep it as is. If you leave a signed review, then I'd be happy to send them to you. This chapter has 700+ words of outtakes. The problem seems to have recently fixed itself (fingers crossed), however, if it crops back up after this update, then I will come up with another way to get them to people. I currently have a poll up on my profile to see what the public opinion is on that, please check it out if you're interested, and sorry again, if I didn't get back to you last chapter! **

**Also, can I just say that Umbridge's (rather skewed) logic is hilarious. "Oh look, this naive little punk is trying to manipulate me. So obvious. Mwahahaha. Let me walk right into his trap just to prove I'm superior." She thinks she's so smart, it's incredibly fun to write. Although Justin learning how to deal with **_**feelings**_**, is equally entertaining to watch play out.**

**Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a review on your way out!**

**(And big shout out to 1000 Faces of Pain, Lilliparadox and MarvelousWonders for beta-ing this chapter!)**


	15. Chapter 14

He almost lost his footing, as a loud '_pop'_ reverberated throughout the room.

But, a quick flip off the balance beam, and a deft flick of his wrist, had him recovered and ready for combat, with wand in hand.

The automatic shift into defense wasn't necessary (although it was better than tumbling to the floor). He recognized the signature crack of apparition, and the distinct feel if the house elf's soul, well enough to know she wasn't a threat. However, since he'd gone to all the effort of transfiguring his classroom into a training area, getting in as much practice as possible seemed prudent.

He relaxed almost instantly upon landing, and nodded towards the house elf. "Hello, Miss. Drippy."

"Hello, Professor Law," she said, looking around the room, which was set up like an obstacle course. It also had a collection of different gymnastic equipment scattered throughout it. "You look busy this morning."

Justin nodded, conjured a towel, and rubbed at the sheen of sweat on his forehead. "I couldn't sleep," he replied. "So, I figured I might as well do something productive."

The house elf looked concerned. "You're not sleeping well? Is the room not to Master's liking? Drippy could-"

Justin shook his head. "No, that's not it. I'm just-" he stopped himself. _On edge._

The random, late night flashes of Horcrux energy were becoming more and more frequent. He'd spent more than a few nights chasing down bursts of phantom wavelengths. And that wasn't doing much to help either his sleep schedule, or his (already somewhat ineffective) attempts to control his soul perception. The occasional headache and bout of insomnia were becoming something of a norm.

As things stood, he wouldn't be surprised if he was even more anxious for the winter holiday than his students.

There was definitely a Horcrux at Hogwarts. However, considering the mass of people currently in the school, there was no way he'd be able to find it under his own power. But, with luck, during the break, the diminished amount of people would hopefully result in an environment that was significantly more _manageable _for his over-powered soul perception. If not, he'd probably have to invite Giuliano, or someone similar, to come find it for him.

He wanted to avoid that though, if possible. It was better to keep the DWMA's movements quiet. With Umbridge in the school, and the children of several Death Eaters, the last thing he wanted to do was broadcast the fact that members of the Academy were having suspicious meetings and frantically searching for, who-knows-what, in the depths of Hogwarts.

He could come up with a plausible backstory, if he really needed to. But, it was easier _not_ to. If he couldn't find it during winter break, he'd consider a plan B. For the time being though, he was _waiting_.

Like always.

It was somewhat discouraging to think that he'd been at Hogwarts for three or so months, in the wizarding world even _longer_, and still hadn't found a single Horcrux. Even though the whole situation was somewhat expected, (there was a reason he'd created a cover for himself that allowed him to stick around the magical communities for an extended period of time) it was still...frustrating.

So, because of that, and the insomnia that always followed the resurgence of the Horcrux, he'd decided to blow of steam via training. Even though he didn't expect to need the full extent of his abilities during his time at Hogwarts, that didn't mean he was going to fall out of practice with them either.

"-well, anyways, the room is fine," Justin said, bringing the lull in the conversation to an end. "Please don't trouble yourself over it."

He dispelled the towel and transfigured his clerical robes (which he'd had on for training) back into a their more magical counterpart. Ideally, it'd probably be better to take a shower and change into new clothes entirely. However, if Drippy had decided to pop in this early in the morning, it probably meant the Headmaster wanted to speak with him.

"Are you sure, Professor Law? Drippy would be happy to help," she said, smiling hopefully. Months of working for the young teacher had made her quite fond of him.

"No, that's all right. I appreciate the offer. But, don't worry, you already do plenty," Justin said.

Truthfully, he still wasn't at all used to the idea of someone waiting on him. Years of being on his own and wholly self-sufficient made everything the house elf did seem like an exercise in excess. He could appreciate that she was around. However, asking her to do anything extra seemed, well...excessive. And, unless house elves secretly had soul perception, he doubted she'd be able to do much to help him anyway.

"Master is too kind to Drippy," she beamed.

Justin's expression immediately turned awkward, and the house-elf continued, in order to save him from saving to come up with a response.

"Headmaster Dumbledore is waiting outside. He sent me in to see if you were awake."

"Tell him I'd be happy to meet with him," Justin said, immediately schooling his features into something more professional and less embarrassed.

"Yes sir," she replied, disapparating away with an indulgent grin.

Justin turned towards the front of the room and began casting it back to normal. Benches bounced back to place, the different pieces of equipment dispelled themselves, and Dumbledore, clad in vibrant aquamarine robes, walked in as the walls rippled back to their original positions.

"Good morning, Headmaster," Justin said, without turning around. He was in the process of resummoning the candles at the edges of the desks, and was choosing to focus more on that then his employer's entry.

"Good morning, Professor Law," Dumbledore replied, looking around the room with a twinkle of approval in his eyes. "Drippy tells me I interrupted your morning regimen. If so, I apologize."

"I started early today," Justin said, with a final flourish of his wand. Since he no longer had to worry about burning his classroom to the ground, he swivelled around to address the Headmaster. "So it's no problem."

"Do you exercise every morning, Professor Law?" Dumbledore asked, legitimately interested. It was another odd but, ultimately useful, habit of the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor - something the boy seemed to have in excess.

Justin nodded. "Usually at night too. I do most of my physical training in the mornings. When I have time, I spend evenings practicing specific techniques and abilities."

"Your personal discipline is quite impressive, Professor," the Headmaster said, completely sincere. Since the boy had come to Hogwarts, it seemed like he never took time to do anything other than teach, study, research, or train. He had to wonder if the Death Scythe ever took any time for himself.

"But, I digress. I came to talk to you about your plans for the upcoming break," not discuss his employee's work habits.

Justin nodded, and moved to sit down at his desk, gesturing for Dumbledore to do the same.

"My subordinates are already on the move," Justin said, once the Headmaster had settled himself. "And I'll most likely meet up with them at some point. Other than that, however, unless their intel dramatically changes my plans, for now, my focus is on the horcrux at Hogwarts. Because of the nature of my soul perception, the smaller the amount of people at the school, the larger my chance is of being able to successfully search it out."

"Truly a fascinating ability," Dumbledore said. "Someday you'll have to explain it to me fully. Though, speaking of things that could be explained fully, I should inform you that I am the leader of a secret group called-"

"The Order of the Phoenix," Justin said. "I'm aware."

Dumbledore chuckled. "I suppose that shouldn't surprise me. But, yes, like you said, the Order of the Phoenix. I'll spare you the history then, if you already know it?"

"As long as I only need the basics," Justin said. "The DWMA has limited intel on your group. The Order, and its active involvement in the fight against Voldemort, is largely the reason I came to Hogwarts."

"As you've mentioned before," Dumbledore said. "Although I hadn't realized your knowledge was that extensive. But, regardless, the reason I bring it up at all, is because I think it might be of some benefit to introduce you to the Order during the break. While I know your priority is Tom's horcruxes, rather than the specifics of the war itself, I still believe that having a complete picture of what's occurring out in the field could be useful to planning your future movements. Which is information you'll only get from attending a few meetings. In addition to that, you may be able to move more freely at Hogwarts if it was confirmed to certain people that you're completely on our side."

"Professor Snape, for example?" Justin asked.

"You don't seem to be having any problems getting along with the majority of the staff," Dumbledore said, with a knowing smile. "But, being amiable towards each other and fighting a war together, are different things entirely. You may find that many walls between you and several of the other professors would fall, if you were a known associate of the Order."

"While that may be true," Justin said. "I still have to worry about the other walls that may appear if I were to do that. When it comes to Voldemort, my goal is to appear as neutral as possible, or even mildly sympathetic, if that becomes necessary. The last thing I want is to have he and his followers scrutinizing my actions, because I've suddenly aligned myself with their enemies."

"Your involvement will remain hidden, Professor. The Order knows how to keep secrets."

"While I'm sure that's true, Headmaster, my first instinct is still to say no," he paused. "I'll have to think about it."

"I'll look forward to your decision then," Dumbledore continued. "I also have some suspicion as to where another horcrux might be. I plan to seek it out over the break, and would appreciate your company and expertise when I go."

"Of course," Justin replied. "Horcruxes are my first priori-"

* * *

"_Soul Resonance: Bullseye!_"

* * *

A flash of light interrupted the Death Scythe.

Dumbledore drew his wand and jumped to his feet, but the Defense professor watched calmly as a series of glowing, red concentric circles appeared on his desk. Noticing the other teacher's lack of alarm, the Headmaster hesitantly lowered his wand and watched, as a single piece of paper materialized in the center of the shining target.

Justin picked it up, and the scarlet energy instantly dissipated. He ignored the light show though, in favor of skimming the message that had been scribbled on it.

Dumbledore sat back down and watched on with more than a touch of interest.

Justin flipped the paper over and immediately started writing on it.

"My subordinates are breaking into Gringotts today," he said, without looking up from his writing. "If you have any advice, we've got a few moments before they expect a reply."

* * *

Giuliano watched through the scope on Lukas's rifle form as their leader wrote out a response to the message they'd sent via 'Bullseye', an ability that allowed them to target and shoot anything, anywhere, so long as there was something familiar for Giuliano's soul percept to latch on to.

Currently, they were in their room at the Leaky Cauldron. However, watching the head of their division in his classroom, wasn't too much of a challenge for them and their powers. Maybe if the Death Scythe had been in Japan, they'd be stretching their range a bit, but targetting someone in the same country was child's play, and the wards around Hogwarts, like most magic, were negligible in the face of souls as powerful as theirs.

"He wrote back," Giuliano said to his partner, as the death scythe held up a piece with paper, written on with dark, blocky letters. (Most likely so they could read it easily.)

"'**MESSAGE RECEIVED AND APPROVED. PROCEED WITH ****EXTREME** **CAUTION. DENY ALL CONNECTION TO THE ACADEMY, IF CAUGHT.**'" Giuliano read out loud.

"Well, I doubt it'd be hard to break out of Azkaban anyways," the sniper smirked. "Mission's approved, Lukas. Shall we head out?"

"Ja, Giuliano," the rifle replied, shifting out of his weapon form.

Unlike his partner, who was in an elaborate pair of formal robes, the rifle was dressed much more conservatively. His clothes were sleek, simple, dark, and perfectly appropriate for the quick trip he had to make to Knockturn alley to meet a contact of theirs.

The two of them were splitting up for the earlier part of the day. As much as they preferred to stick together, their supplier had very specifically stated that he would only meet with one of them. Being one of the few members of the Academy from a wizarding family himself, Lukas had a slight advantage over his Italian partner, who was still relatively new to the world. Because of that, he was going to the meeting while Giuliano did further recon on Gringotts with his soul perception. They two of them planned to meet back in the room around noon, and head to their appointment at the bank, which was scheduled for one in the afternoon.

The two of them, already knowing what the plan was, nodded at each other and headed out.

* * *

Knowing his partner's tastes, Lukas was sure the meister was sitting at the posh little cafe, down the block from Gringotts, eating fancy pastries and sipping an obscenely expensive cup of caffeinated something or another. _His_ breakfast, on the other hand, was a scoop of dark sludge, served over a piece of burnt toast, and a cup of bubbling green liquid the waitress had served to him complimentary with the rest of his order. (And he honestly had no idea what it was.)

But, bad food was the price to pay for meeting shifty people in shifty places, and the rifle ate quickly and without complaint. He'd definitely had worse, even if he was reasonably sure the goo on his bread was...moving.

It didn't seem to bother the man who'd joined him for breakfast either. His long, filthy finger nails were being used to vigorously tear the bread apart and dip it in the gray goo, and each bite was accompanied by loud smacking and louder coos of contentment.

Personally, Lukas couldn't decide if the food or the company was worse, but the lanky man, with thin facial features, dark hair, darker eyes, and a pair of tatty robes seemed extremely pleased with both.

"Well, Mr. Reinhardt," the man said, using his sludge stained fingers to push a strand of greasy hair away from his mouth, adding yet another streak of the goo to his dirty face. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Likewise," Lukas said, keeping his features neutral rather than disgusted, as the man continued to chew loudly. The noise only called attention to his face, which, quite like the rest of him, was covered in a growing collection of food stains, and an older collection made up of what looked like a week's worth of dirt and dust.

The man, aged anywhere from thirty to fifty, was a mess. Especially so, compared to the rifle, whose appearance, like always, was clean-pressed and professional, even when his outfit was designed specifically to not call attention to himself.

Still, if that man had come through for them, then he was one of the most important people in the city. So, Lukas, who wasn't easily bothered by anything, anyways, was inclined to stay polite.

"Ah, the food sure is great today," the man said, around a bite of sludge.

"Eat as much as you'd like," Lukas replied. "It's on me."

"On the DWMA, you mean," the man said, with an exaggerated wink. He chuckled, shooting a chunk of bread into Lukas's cup. (Well, that definitely confirmed that he wasn't going to try it.) "Partnering with you people is the best decision I've ever made."

"And the Academy appreciates you as well, Mr. Driggs," Lukas said.

"They'd better," the man said, pointing at at weapon with a chipped fingernail. "The things you people ask me to do aren't easy you know. This last job was a nightmare."

"Did you find it?" Lukas said.

"We wouldn't be here if I didn't have one," Driggs replied. "It wasn't easy though. You'd better have my money. I want extra."

"The agreed upon amount has already been transferred to your account," Lukas said. "If the item works as anticipated, I'm sure we can speak to the Academy about a bonus."

"Hmmph," the man said. "It'll do for now. I know you and that partner of yours are good for it, otherwise I wouldn't hand this over to you at all. I could get a fortune for it, if I took it elsewhere," he patted the lumpy, cloth-wrapped package on his lap. "Still, I'm a thief, not a grave-robber. Don't think I'll ever do anything like this again."

Lies, of course. Lukas knew the man would do pretty much anything for quick cash. But, he nodded agreeingly, knowing it was better to play along with whatever conviction the master criminal had at any given point in time. At least half of their meetings ended with the man swearing off the life forever, but the money always kept him coming back.

"Well, I see that you're done already," Driggs said, looking at the rifle's empty plate. "I guess I'll hand this over then. But, listen, I'm not an idiot. There's only one thing you'd use this for," he glared at the rifle. "When you get caught, my name better not come up when the aurors are interrogating you."

"I doubt getting caught will be a problem," Lukas replied.

The man snorted. "_Right_. If that were true, then I'd be out of a job. People who can rob the most secure bank in Europe don't employ rinky-dink burglars like me."

"We do when we're on a time limit," Lukas replied, looking pointedly at the package.

The thief snorted again. "Sure, whatever. Just don't drag me down with you," he passed the package over the table. "Here, take it."

Lukas grabbed it and stood up. "Thank you. I'm sure we'll see you again in the future."

"Yeah, probably in Azkaban," Driggs muttered.

Lukas ignored him and turned to leave.

"And I want my bonus!" the thief yelled as he walked away from the table, privacy ward falling as the rifle exited the building.

* * *

On the other side of town, Giuliano was doing exactly as his partner had predicted, eating scones and drinking coffee. In addition to that, a pair of sunglasses hid the fact that he was also actively searching out the Horcrux in Gringotts.

He knew that it was in the lower levels. And, since he'd had the good fortune to run into one of the Malfoys, he could tell that it was near their vault as well. However, until he got into the bank itself, he doubted he'd be able to figure out the specifics.

Hopefully, he'd be able to schmooze the goblins into even taking them that low, otherwise Lukas really would have his work cut out for him.

It was going to be a busy afternoon, regardless.

* * *

**A/N: Alright guys look, we're finally getting to the real plot! You know, I thought I'd be able to finish this story in twenty chapters or so, but that really doesn't seem likely at this point, haha. We've almost a 150 pages in and I'm barely on the fifth bullet of a three page outline. Although considering how long Order of the Phoenix is, I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. ;)**

**This chapter and the next are fairly OC-heavy, for obvious reasons. However, they're also the first 'real' action in the story. The DWMA is finally accomplishing something, woot! A large reason I wrote this crossover is because it's a bit of a pet peeve of mine when a super powerful/competent crossover character is introduced, and then doesn't do anything. So, this is the first of many rippling changes in the HP plot-line. Justin came to Hogwarts to get stuff done, not follow a pre-existing canon, haha. **

**As far as deleted scenes go, there was a three way tie in the poll, and not getting emails from fanfiction still seems to be an on and off problem. Because of that, I'm thinking I'll just stick with the original plan, which was to put them at the end of the story as a bonus chapter, after the epilogue. So, they'll definitely be posted at some point for everyone to read. However, if you're desperately interested in reading them early, I still don't mind sending them to anyone who specifically asks for them in a review or PM. In fact, feel free to do so, there's 900 words worth of outtakes for this chapter. :) Otherwise though, I'll just assume you're waiting until they're posted at the end. Also, please note that if you want to read them, you have to have PM's enabled. I didn't respond to some of you last chapter because I couldn't message you. Sorry about that! **

**Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a review on your way out. **


	16. Chapter 15

Gringotts was probably one of the only banks in the world that'd let him sit in their lobby with a large, black rifle, while wearing a pair of sunglasses. In the wizarding world, his ensemble had earned him a few weird looks. In the real world, someone would have tackled him already.

Giuliano tapped out his amusement, in morse code, on the strap around his chest, holstering his partner to his back. To most, it'd probably look like a nervous tic. To the pair of them, it was one of many ways they'd created to covertly communicate with each other.

Lukas kept still and quiet under his hand, for obvious reasons. Looking like nothing more than an inanimate object was the rifle's only job, for the first part of the plan - something Giuliano was a touch envious of. At the very least, Lukas had a much more fortunate wardrobe. Giuliano could appreciate nice clothing as much as anyone, but wizarding fashion was the last thing he wanted to wear on a mission. His elaborate silver robes were clunky, hard to move in, and almost comically pretentious, and while that was technically the whole point of the outfit, it still didn't make it any less obnoxious.

However, for their plan to work, looking important _was_ important. Plus, if everything went well, he wouldn't have to do much moving anyways. The heavy lifting in this mission was going to be done almost exclusively by Lukas. All he had to do was distract whichever goblin got stuck with them.

Speaking of which, as if it had read his mind, one of the diminutive creatures started walking over almost immediately after the thought crossed it.

'_About time,_' he tapped out rapidly. The team had been waiting for nearly thirty minutes now, but at least the wait had given him a better idea of where the Horcrux actually was. (Deep in the vaults, somewhere near the dragon, which he planned to avoid at all costs. There wasn't really an incognito way to kill a giant, fire breathing lizard.)

The goblin, short, with sharp claws and teeth, reached them, bringing Giuliano's tapping to a halt. It gave the meister a brief nod.

"_Herr_ Julian Schmidt?" it asked, addressing Giuliano by his alias for the mission.

"_Ja_," he said, before continuing in strongly accented English. "That's me. And, you are?"

"Kritsmirk," the goblin said. "My office is this way. Come."

With that said, he turned on his heel and started walking towards a hallway of doors behind the tellers. Giuliano took wide steps to keep up with the goblin's quick place, hastily ducking and weaving through the lobby crowd, unlike the goblin, who was small enough to be relatively unbothered by it.

Customer service obviously wasn't the first thing on its mind, though he'd been told to expect that by Lukas, so it was only mildly surprising. Plus, the quick pace had them at one of the doors in record time, and Giuliano wasn't one to complain about efficiency.

The two (and Lukas, though the goblin didn't know that) walked into a small office. There was a desk and a pair of chairs, each gaudily decorated with precious metals and gems, very much in line with what he'd come to expect from goblin tastes. Still, ugly or not, the _opulent_ decor meant he was meeting with someone who mattered.

Good. That meant they were taking him seriously.

"Take a seat, sir," the goblin said, gesturing as he took his own.

"Thank you," Giuliano replied, placing a hand on each arm rest and leaning back confidently. He crossed his legs and gave the goblin an expectant look, posture as arrogant as he could make it. (Hm, Lukas's wardrobe choice for him was starting to make sense. The billowing, metallic robes only enhanced the effect, even if he felt ridiculous in them.)

The goblin noted the display, but didn't react to it with anything other than a quick flash of sardonic amusement, something Giuliano wouldn't have caught if he hadn't purposefully been paying close attention.

"Mister Schmidt," Kritsmirk said, breaking the lull in conversation. "Welcome to Gringotts. We're pleased to meet with a representative for the House of Castell."

Castell was Lukas's family name. Unlike his Italian partner, the rifle had already been a part of the magical community prior to attending the Academy. And, also unlike Giuliano, who didn't have hardly any family, Lukas had a _lot_ of family, and they were something of a big deal in the right circles, specifically, the rich, German, pureblood type.

The Castell's were a long-time ally of the DWMA. Lukas's mother was a weapon herself, and his father was the current Head of the family. The two of them had met during one of his mother's missions. So, because of Lukas's high-rank in the family, and the Castell's close connections to the Academy, using their name to open a few doors while on their mission wasn't a big deal. (The reason he suspected their ever competent leader had chosen the two of them for recon in the wizarding world. They were hardly the only stealth and infiltration based team at Law's disposal, but Lukas's name alone was enough to get them into places the average Academy member couldn't.)

"Yes, and I am happy to be at the most secure bank in Europe," Giuliano replied, fake, but practiced, German accent waxing strong. "My clients, as you know, just had a scare at theirs."

The goblin nodded along with their cover story, most likely already familiar with the lie they'd come up with to justify the family's sudden, possible switch to a new bank. It was fairly simple, a break-in at their old bank had left them leery to rely on it in the future, and, as a result, they were searching out a new one. Giuliano was posing as an account manager selected to oversee the transfer.

"So I've heard," the goblin said, lips curling into a thin smirk. "But, I can assure you that such robberies do not occur here."

'_H' 'A' 'H' 'A'_

Giuliano tapped the four letters in Lukas's line of sight, and nodded at the goblin with a more neutral expression. Well, the plan was to have a lack of thievery still be the _assumed_ case by the end of the meeting. They were going to rob the bank, but if all went as it was supposed to, no one was ever going to know just how ironic the goblin's statement was.

"That's good to hear," Giuliano replied. "This whole incident has put me in hot water. It wouldn't look good on my resume to get fired over losing priceless heirlooms because I recommended they be placed in a sub-par facility. So, I figured the best way to nip the problem was to come to the best."

The goblin's smirk grew a little wider. "It's an honor, to hear that our reputation has extended so far. Rest assured that we will do all that we can to accommodate your clients. For now, there is some paperwork you must fill out before you can enter the vaults."

"Of course," Giuliano said.

So far, so good. The goblins didn't seem to suspect anything out of the ordinary.

The Meister kept quiet as the goblin pushed a thin stack of paperwork towards him. Kritsmirk handed him a quill, before turning back to his own pile while Giuliano started working on his.

He dutifully filled out lines of information, name, age, current position, current bank, etc., etc. Everything he wrote was fake, but they had a decent enough backstory holding it all together that the goblins would never know better, unless they did some serious digging. Opposed to muggle banks, tricking Gringotts was relatively simple. They still relied on things like signet rings for verification purposes, rather than social security numbers and government databases. Creating a new identity was easy in the magic world. Realistically, to Gringotts, 'Julian Schmidt' was actually more valid than 'Giuliano Carracci'.

However, having to recall a decent chunk of faked information slowed down his paperwork skills just a bit, and it took about forty minutes to finish everything. Giuliano looked up from the paper and signalled that he was done.

"Thank you," the goblin replied, looking up from his desk. He grabbed the stack and skimmed through it. "Everything seems to be in order, Mister Schmidt. I only have one more document for you to fill out."

"Alright, it's no problem," Giuliano said.

The goblin nodded, and fished out a thick scroll from his desk. He handed it to the Meister and gestured for him to read through it.

Giuliano unrolled the parchment, only to be greeted by a thick wall of black, archaic calligraphy. His brow furrowed, and he set himself to reading through it.

"It's a Confidentiality Agreement," the goblin said by way of explanation. "For the sake of your client's peace of mind, we're willing to let you tour the upper levels of the vaults. However, we will not let you speak to anyone about the specifics of our security."

"Fair enough," Giuliano replied off handedly, still reading through the contract.

So far, it was exactly what the goblin had said, though phrased much more long-windedly. Personally, he thought it could have been summed up with a few sentences, but he trudged through the entire thing, just to make sure there wasn't something more insidious hidden in the fine print.

But, goblins seemed the honest sort. He nodded and went to sign it with the quill the goblin had given him. (Not the most practical writing tool, but at least they were harder to steal than normal pens - that had to be nice for the bank.)

He handed both back to the goblin, and it stood up after a quick glance at his signature.

"Very well then," Kritsmirk said. "Follow me to the carts."

* * *

Gringotts was even more impressive than he'd thought. It was _massive_. Even after a half hour of travelling in their cart, one of the fastest vehicles he'd ever been in, they'd still only barely explored what he'd consider 'Floor One' of the bank.

Giuliano's eyes burned underneath his sunglasses. Speeding around the bank was giving him ample opportunity to fully scope out Gringotts' layout. (Honestly, the amount of energy suffusing throughout magical structures was ridiculous. It's like they wanted anyone with soul perception to be able to create perfect mental maps of every building made with the glowing energy.)

Well, he wasn't going to complain too much. Courtesy of Gringott's distinctly noticeably energy signature, he'd figured out pretty quickly that the Horcrux was deep in its cavernous structure. Far deeper than Kritsmirk, who'd been narrating the tour with various plugs about different security features the bank offered, was planning on taking them.

However, in the next few minutes, they'd be passing directly over it. And, he had a plan.

Giuliano leaned dangerously over the cart, to stare below. It would have be pure black to most, but his vision was shrouded in pulsing color. The only black in his perception was a mass of gnarled energy, forming the distinct shape of a cup, coming from Voldemort, and whatever remained of his victim's souls.

It'd take some calculations, and perfect timing. But, getting things from one place to another was a speciality of his, even when he wasn't using a gun.

He leaned a little further out of the cart, and tapped the basics of the plan he'd come up with, and the specific dimensions of what to look for, to Lukas.

"The vaults are impenetrable to all but - watch yourself, Mister Schmidt," the goblin said, stopping himself off as he noticed the Meister's precarious position.

"Sorry, I thought I saw a flash- oh, _Schei__ss__e_!" The Meister reached out desperately for the gun as he covertly unclasped the strap holding Lukas to his back, sending the rifle past his shoulders, and into the depths below them.

_Excellent_.

The goblin immediately grabbed him, and jerked him back to his seat, '_saving'_ Giuliano from a near fall himself.

"Be careful! Are you trying to kill yourself?!" the goblin said.

"My gun-!" Giuliano replied, with wide eyes.

"-I'll send someone to find it for you," the goblin bit out, and cut him off. "Throwing yourself out of the cart isn't going to help. Sit down, this tour is over."

That was okay. He'd seen everything he'd needed to.

The rest was up to his partner.

* * *

Lukas switched from his weapon form as soon as the cart, and any others, for that matter, left his line of sight, assuming the old 'I can't see you, you can't see me' adage held true. (Though, he knew for a fact, Giuliano could, and was, watching his progress.)

The rifle calmly continued to free-fall for several moments, before a shelf of stone appeared in his line of sight, underneath him. He flicked his wand from the holster at his wrist, and cast a quick spell, which turned his rapid fall into something more closely resembling a gentle, downward float, rather than a plummet to his untimely demise.

Once he was close enough to the marble, he cancelled the magic and landed on his feet, bending his knees to absorb some of the impact. He re-holstered his wand, (the less of his magic signature he could toss around, the better) and turned to look at the vault door in front of him.

It was large, ornate, and practically impenetrable, from what he understood. But, he wasn't necessarily looking to _break_ in. He had a...questionably legal...but overall non-intrusive strategy for entering the vault, one that'd hopefully avoid any red flags being waved for some time to come.

Hopefully being the key word. Giuliano's aim was always perfect, so he didn't doubt that he'd landed in front of the right vault. What he _did_ doubt was the authenticity of the Driggs' package. And, the piece being genuine or not was what the rest of their plan hinged on. The small package was the difference between the heist going off without a hitch, or the entire day being a complete waste of time. In addition to that, it'd be that much harder to get back into the bank after their first attempt. Their feasible backstory had been used up. If there was a next time, they'd really just have to break in.

However, rather than wasting time worrying, he instead pulled a bundle of black fabric from one of the pockets in his practical, form-fitting robes. He stared at it contemplatively for a few seconds, before moving forward and unwrapping the black cloth. Inside was a small, embalmed hand, yellowed with age. It had long, thin digits, with sharp claws at the end of each.

The rifle turned it over in his hands a few times, before taking it completely out of the fabric. The piece looked legitimate, so he pressed it against the door, only to be pleasantly surprised when the vault began unlocking underneath it.

So, Driggs really had come through for them. The man really was bizarrely competent at times, especially when considering how incompetently he presented himself. Still, it was...impressive.

It wasn't everyday someone got their hands on one of Gringotts', the goblin who had built the bank he and Giuliano were breaking into. The ancient goblin's genetic code was still keyed into every door and vault in the place, a little known secret that the goblins guarded zealously, in addition to his body. The rifle still wasn't sure how the thief had gotten access to it, but, the fact that he had, made him well worth the exorbitant fees he demanded for his services.

Either way, the vault was open, legally, according to Gringotts' security systems, which meant any and all enchantments protecting it were powered off.

He was running on limited time. The goblins might take ten minutes or ten hours to find him, but, either way, he there was no point in standing around in front of an open vault.

The rifle walked in, eyes open for a small cup fitting the description Giuliano had given him.

* * *

Harry stifled a yawn, and raised his hand to knock a polite twice on Professor Law's door. He hadn't slept well the night before, hadn't slept well for awhile, actually, but it had really caught up to him after dinner. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so groggy. He just hoped the Defense teacher wouldn't keep him too long.

"Come in, Mister Potter," Professor Law said, from behind the door.

Harry nodded, before remembering that the other teenager couldn't see him. (Wow, he _really_ was out of it.) He shook his head, forced another yawn back, and opened the door, looking around briefly before walking in.

Professor Law's office was spartan. He hadn't done much of anything to decorate it. The only difference between it and any other empty office Harry'd seen around school was the professor's desk, which was easily three or four times larger than the usual ones, and covered in stacks, and stacks, and stacks of papers and books. In addition to that, he also had a wall of filing cabinets behind him, which was further evidence in favor of Hermione's muggle-born theory, though it could also be an American thing, for all he knew.

The professor himself was looking down, and working on something with a muggle pen (point - Hermione), but he looked up as Harry walked in.

"Hello, Mister Potter," he said, and gestured towards a smaller desk near his own giant one. It didn't match the color of the other desk, so Harry figured it'd been brought in for him specifically. "You can sit there. Feel free to work on whatever you'd like," he turned around to look at the clock behind his desk. "It's almost eight," he said. "I suppose you can leave around nine then."

Only an hour? Definitely one of the milder detentions he'd received. He smiled gratefully, and made his way towards the desk. "Thank you, Professor."

Professor Law nodded, and Harry took his seat in response to the teacher's quiet.

The two of them worked for a little over half of the hour. Harry was trudging through a potions essay, but largely suspected he might have to rewrite the entire thing. He was too tired to think straight, and it showed very clearly in his '_This poiton is good for stuff like gardning'_ type sentences.

He was tempted to put his head down, and his teacher was engrossed in his own work, so he doubted Professor Law would notice. (Plus, it seemed unlikely he'd care, even if he did.) Still, he didn't want to push the other teen's good nature too much, but he did take a quick break to stare drowsily at the clock...twenty more minutes-

Professor Law set his pen down, and stood up in the same motion.

"I'm sorry, Mister Potter," he said. "I have to step out for a bit. Feel free to leave if I'm not back in time."

With that said, he sped out of the room, door slamming behind him.

Huh, weird. On the other hand, he was too tired to care overly much about the why's of his teacher's actions. He picked up his quill with a wide yawn, before letting it fall out of his fingers again.

A few minutes of putting his head down wouldn't hurt.

* * *

"_It went surprisingly well,_" Giuliano said in German, from his and Lukas's place inside the largest mirror in Justin's living quarters.

"_Agreed,"_ Lukas said.

"_I was planning to 'accidentally' leave Lukas in the cart with specific instructions on how to get to the vault, once the goblin was out of sight. But, we were lucky and passed right over it instead. All I had to do was drop him in front of it."_

"_So, you found it then?" _Justin replied.

"_Yes sir," _Giuliano said. He reached into the depths of his bright robes and pulled out a small cup. "_No idea what this is. But, we've got it, and a couple other cup shaped objects too, since Lukas wasn't entirely sure which one it was,_" he laughed. "_Obviously we can't destroy it ourselves. At least, not unless you want Lukas to burn the village down, but it's still out of enemy hands, which is a win."_

"_Lord Death theorized that a Death Scythe might be able to destroy Horcruxes,"_ Justin replied, a large part of his Lord's reasoning for sending a Death Scythe to deal with the Voldemort issue, rather than just a random team.

He also suspected that the DWMA's current peace was an equally large factor in his appointment. After the defeat of the Kishin, pretty much all of the Academy's strongest enemies, had either been defeated, or gone underground. Witch activity especially, was at an all time low. So, while there'd been a lot for him to work on in the months before he'd entered Hogwarts, (there always was) there really hadn't been anything particularly pressing for him to do either. It'd mostly been a few months of busy work, and getting his division back on track after all the insanity that had gone down during the war with Asura.

Voldemort was the only real, pressing threat the Academy was dealing with, so Lord Death had mobilized a Death Scythe because it was well within the DWMA's current resources to do so. Had the halfblood been resurrected even a year ago though, it would have been a very different story.

That was irrelevant though, and he pushed past the tangent. "_You can bring it to me over the Winter Holidays. We'll plan the best way to do that later. At that point, even if I end up being unable to destroy it myself, I'm sure Dumbledore can cast fiendfyre." _

"_Yes sir,_" Giuliano replied.

"_Keep me informed of your future movements, and good work today_," Justin said.

"_Thank you, Death Scythe," _Lukas said as they disappeared from the mirror.

Justin watched to make sure they'd fully faded out, before moving to go back to his office. It was a little past nine, so Potter had probably left, but he still had some of his own work to finish. It'd be a good idea to start a mission report to Lord Death too, now that they finally had a Horcrux in their possession.

He walked into his office, and looked over at the smaller of the two desks in his room. Potter hadn't gone back to his dorm yet. In fact, it looked like he was asleep-

Justin winced, and brought his hand up to his head, as a sharp jolt of pain lanced through it. Potter was twitching and mumbling under his breath, and the room brimmed with vile noise.

Justin's eyes widened, and filled with blue light as he activated his soul perception. Pouring from Potter's scar was writhing black energy, polluting the boy's own pale blue and proudly melodic soul.

Which _wasn't_ possible.

The Death Scythe let the walls around his soul perception fall just a little more, and winced again as the black screech immediately bombarded his barriers. He could only imagine how unpleasant it had to be for the boy himself.

The _Horcrux_ was beyond loud. How hadn't he _noticed_ it before?

Potter cut his thoughts off as the boy jerked up with a startled gasp. In time with the motion, the malevolent energy faded just as abruptly, twisting itself to hide back inside the boy's own soul.

Which answered his question. _Sort of_...he'd have to consult with Dumbledore and Lord Death. This situation was far beyond his own knowledge base.

But, first, he had a distressed student to take care of. The Gryffindor was breathing heavily and looking around wildly.

"Potter," Justin said, making his way to the boy's side. "Are you alrig-"

"Professor!" Harry said, wrenching out of the desk, almost tripping in the process. "I need to see the Headmaster, right away. There's been an attack!"

The Death Scythe's eyes narrowed, the word 'attack' pulling him into a very specific mindset.

"Alright, let's go," Justin said, immediately moving to the door.

Potter looked surprised at his rapid shift into action, but followed after him.

"You believe me?" Potter asked.

"I don't take chances with that sort of information," Justin replied. "Not when there's more at work than I understand."

And, with that cryptic statement, the two of them made their way towards the Headmaster's office.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, feel free to blame college. I certainly do, haha. I tried to write a longer chapter than usual to make up for it though. **

**There's going to be a lot happening in the next few chapters. This one is basically the kick off point for the real plot. Stay tuned for more.**

**If you'd like an early copy of the deleted scenes for this chapter, a little over 1500 words this time, feel free to ask in a PM or Review, and I'll send them to you. Otherwise, they'll be posted at the end. **

**Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a review on your way out.**

**And, big Thank You's to my betas for this chapter, Liliparadox and 1000 Faces of Pain.**


	17. Chapter 16

Harry wanted to throw up. The ground kept tilting.

...no

...that was him

His legs were shaking.

It was only the Defense professor's steady presence that stopped him from stopping. In the hallway. On the way to Dumbledore's office...he knew he wasn't making any sense. His mind was all muddled.

Harry swayed where he stood and let out a shaky, gasping breath.

The _snake_...him..._was_ him. And _Mr. Weasley_ \- he clamped a hand over his mouth to hold back bile. His breath turned ragged under his grip. Oh _Merlin_, how could he-_!_

"Calm down, Mister Potter," Professor Law said, barely turning around to look at him from his place a few steps ahead. "Panicking won't help anyone."

The professor's words were borderline callous, but it was exactly what he needed to hear. Harry shook his head once, twice, to clear the fog, and nodded at the other teenager.

"Sorry...just, sorry," he rasped, as the hand over his mouth started to shake again. He dropped it to his side and clenched it tight enough to stop the trembling. "You're right."

Law nodded, and continued forward, across the foyer, and up a set or two of staircases before they ended up in front of Dumbledore's office. The professor half-shouted the password, though Harry was too caught up in his own thoughts to remember it, before they both made their way into the elaborately decorated room.

The Headmaster was in bright nightwear, and bent over a pile of paper, but he looked up as they walked in.

"Professor Law?" Dumbledore asked, looking legitimately surprised. "And...Harry too?" Even more so, after noticing both of them.

"Mister Potter claims there's been an attack," Justin said abruptly, skipping straight to their reason for coming. He gestured for Harry to step forward.

"It's true, Sir," Harry said, taking another deep, calming breath. "I swear, I'm not mad. Mr. Weasley was attacked by a giant snake," his voice started fluctuating into panic as he continued. (Professor Dumbledore _had _to believe him...they'd already wasted so much time!) "I saw it...I was sleeping, but I swear...I saw it!" he insisted desperately, locking his knees for a few second to stop them from shaking again.

"How did you see it?" Dumbledore asked, straightening up in his desk. His magic swirled impressively around him as his usual serenity faded, though only the Defense professor had the power to notice.

"What? I just said-"

"No, you misunderstand me. I mean _how_ did you see the attack? From above, maybe? Were you in the room, standing beside the victim?"

Harry froze, and his face whitened. The question was _odd_ \- too specific. The Headmaster had to _know._

"I...I-it was was me. I didn't _see it_. I _did it_. I **was **the snake."

For just a brief second, Dumbledore looked absolutely _devastated_. Ashen, and like he wanted to turn as faint as Harry felt.

But, it faded in the same moment, and Dumbledore only yelled for a few portraits to head to the Ministry, and conjured a set of plush armchairs.

"Sit down, Mister Potter," he said.

Harry collapsed into the seat gratefully, and clenched pale fingers to the sides of his arms.

"_Justin_," Dumbledore said.

The Defense professor, who'd been watching the proceedings quietly from the back of the room, snapped to attention at the informal address.

"Find Minerva, and have her round up the Weasley children, if you would."

"Of course," Law replied, giving Dumbledore a brief, acquiescing bow. "We need to talk though, soon."

"I couldn't agree more," the Headmaster said, with a grave nod.

Harry's brow furrowed as he listened in.

_What did that mean?_

* * *

Justin watched as Dumbledore sent Potter, Granger, and the Weasley children off with a useful bit of teleportation magic to Grimmauld Place. McGonagall was out heading off Umbridge, who'd somehow known the group of them were out of bed.

(Though, how she'd managed to figure that out, he didn't know. Hopefully Dumbledore did, because if she was tracking _his_ motions too, then that was something to worry about.)

"Will Professor McGonagall be able to keep her away?" Justin asked.

"Minerva can be quite intimidating when she wants to be," Dumbledore said, rubbing at the bridge of his nose with one hand, and holding his glasses up with the other. He settled them back in place, and straightened up, before continuing.

"Even more so, when her students are at risk. I imagine our Auditor and I will be having a lengthy, and unpleasant conversation in the near future, but we have some time. However, it'll look suspicious if you stay too long, and I need to rendezvous with the Order as quickly as possible-"

"-I'll be brief then," Justin said, jumping into the conversation. "Potter is a Horcrux."

Dumbledore nodded wearily. "Yes. I had deduced..." His voice cracked with grief. "The same."

The Headmaster, normally pulsing with quiet power, hunched in on himself, and almost _withered _in front of Justin. In seconds, the man went from a stalwart leader, to a tired old man, and the transition was jarring, though completely understandable.

Grief, genuine sorrow - it'd do that to anyone.

"He...Harry...has to _die_ then," Dumbledore whispered, voice uneven. He continued to mumble under his breath, near inaudibly, to himself. "...just a _boy_...other way...Sybill...I don't..."

"I have contacts," Justin said calmly, a stark contrast to the strong emotions running rampant in the room. He continued as the Headmaster looked up from his mutterings, a glint of desperate hope in the elder's eyes.

"The Academy has people far more versed on these sorts of things than myself. Doctor Stein maybe..." He trailed off to think for several moments. "...I can't guarantee anything. But, we might have other options."

He didn't want to murder a child anymore than Dumbledore did. He would if he had to - if Lord Death _commanded_ him to. But, he was determined to seek out other options first.

"There is the prophecy," the Headmaster said with a quiet sigh. "Sometimes I wonder how much you and I can really do, when it's not our destiny to do so."

"Prophecy?" Justin replied.

"I'm surprised, Professor," Dumbledore said, looking grim. "You don't already know?"

There technically wasn't any logical reason for the boy to have that information. The existence of Trelawney's divination was kept under tight wraps, however, that certainly hadn't stopped the Defense professor's ability to gain intel before.

"No. Apologies," Justin said. "I don't understand the relevancy."

"Relevancy?" Dumbledore replied, sounding surprised. "I can't imagine there's anything _more _relevant to the task at hand. I assumed you already had some knowledge of it. You mean to say that you don't know that Harry is the only one who can defeat Voldemort?"

Justin quirked a skeptical eyebrow. "Potter? I suppose he's a bit more talented that most of his peers, but he's hardly what I'd consider the only hope you have. He's barely combat ready. I certainly wouldn't throw him on a battlefield. He doesn't seem particularly suited to assassination work either, unless he's _incredibly_ suited, and I missed it-"

"-No, Professor, that's not it at all," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. "You don't understand, Harry is _fated_ to defeat Voldemort. He's the only one who can, no matter what either of us might wish."

"That's...ridiculous," Justin deadpanned. "I'm _stronger _than Voldemort."

It was a simple statement of fact on the boy's part. He wasn't boasting or, at least, he wasn't trying to.

Dumbledore doubted him though. He knew the boy had strange powers, and was schooled in a more combat-orientated style of magic than Hogwarts offered. However, Voldemort was one of the strongest wizards the world had ever produced. No eighteen year old boy, no matter how prodigious, was going to be able to match him.

The only reason Harry might stand a chance was because of the strange connection he and the Dark Lord seemed to share.

...Not might, _would_. He _would _stand a chance. Dumbledore's mind buzzed with plans, one step, two steps, thirty steps in the future. He was determined to make the oncoming storm as easy for the boy to weather, as possible.

Having Professor Law's help in that task, was appreciated, and useful. He certainly wasn't going to turn it away. However, ultimately he knew the last showdown was going to be between Harry and Tom, _not _Justin and Tom.

"Think what you will, Professor," Dumbledore said. "But, true prophecy is not the sort of thing you or I have the power to fight. We will continue to seek out Tom's horcruxes, but it will not be either of us who faces him at the end."

Justin folded his arms. "We disagree here, Headmaster. I don't understand. If Potter is your 'fated' agent," and there was an obvious undercurrent of disbelief in that statement, "then why is he so undertrained?"

"It's not as though I was expecting Voldemort to return so soon, if ever," Dumbledore replied. "I wanted Harry to have as normal of a childhood as possible. I never planned to make him into a soldier-"

"-You just expect him to die as one?" Justin said, voice even and emotionless.

Dumbledore reared back, as if he'd been struck.

Good. The man needed to take a step back and _think. _

Obviously, the Death Scythe had no issues with the idea of someone so young on the front lines. It was the norm at the Academy. However, it did bother him that Dumbledore wasn't doing _anything_ to prepare him. Students at the DWMA knew the risks, accepted them, and were taught overcome them. As far as Justin could see, Potter was completely in the dark about any of this. He certainly didn't approach his schoolwork like a man on a mission, only like a kid doing the bare minimum to eek out a decent future for himself.

Beyond that, the leader of the European Branch and his team were professionals. They fought people like Voldemort, _stronger _than Voldemort, on a regular basis. Why would the Headmaster even consider putting a civilian in the middle of the conflict when he had a _Death Scythe_ on his side of the board? It was quite possibly the most inane tactical decision he'd ever heard in his whole life.

He wished he had his headphones. He desperately wanted to tune the Headmaster out for a bit. Justin hadn't been so _irritated _in a while, though nothing in his expression revealed his inner frustration.

Near tangible tension had the room trapped in a standstill. Neither leader was speaking, only waiting for the other to make their case.

Justin obliged.

"Headmaster, let me be very clear, I have every intention of killing Voldemort myself," the teen's voice was calm, but underlied with steely certainty. "However, until we get to a point where I'll need to engage Voldemort personally, our different opinions as to how that should be done, don't necessarily matter. Beyond that, once the Horcruxes are destroyed, there won't be too much of a reason for our continued partnership anyways. If our plans diverge at that point, then so be it."

Ultimately, if Dumbledore insisted on forcing Potter into the conflict, then the only real solution was to end the fight before it would affect his student. Once the preliminary work was done, the Death Scythe wasn't going to let himself be held down by a cumbersome alliance, if Dumbledore's plans ended up being more a hinderance than a help.

The Headmaster only shook his head, and released a small sigh.

"Justin, I'm telling you this for your own good, as much as anyone's," he said, desperately wishing the boy would listen to him. The last thing he wanted to see was _another_ teenager pitted against Tom, especially one who had no hope of winning. "If you try to face Voldemort yourself, you _will die_."

"You're wrong," the teenager replied, in the same steady tone. "Prophecy or not, I am here, under direct orders from Lord Death himself. I won't fail."

* * *

"I think Professor Law is a member of the Order," Harry said, under his breath to Hermione. Ron and his family were still in with their father, and the two of them had stepped out to give them some privacy.

"What?" Hermione asked. "But, he's so young!"

"Yeah, but he's also a mad, combat genius."

Well, she couldn't argue against that. It was very likely Professor Law could go toe to toe with the best. And, she supposed that was exactly the sort of person Dumbledore was looking for.

"And a teacher, so Dumbledore must trust him, at least a little bit," Hermione mused.

"The Defense one though," Harry disagreed. "That doesn't mean anything."

"You're right," Hermione said. They'd had plenty of less-than-reputable individuals in that particular position, and two of them had been directly affiliated with Voldemort himself. "What else makes you think that then?"

"It's just a hunch," Harry replied. "But, Dumbledore actually did seem to really trust him. And, they mentioned needing to talk together, about me."

That was mildly grating. Professor Law had always seemed rather indifferent to him, and his 'boy-who-lived' status. No stutter on the roll call, no weird demonstrations, no awkward questions - just a teacher, teaching. It was ironic that wasn't just the norm, but he'd definitely appreciated it regardless. However, maybe the Defense professor was just a better actor than everyone else.

Or, maybe he was just being paranoid. In hindsight, maybe a quick 'we need to talk' didn't mean anything.

"I don't know, I wasn't thinking straight in there anyways. Too stressed out. Maybe it's nothing. It'd be weird that we've never seen or heard of him before, if he were a part of the Order, right?"

"He could be new," Hermione said. "But, I'm not sure why an American would care enough to join anyways."

"This is crazy," Harry said, running nervous hands through his hair. He wasn't necessarily talking about the Professor. Just...everything really. The dreams, _visions_, the attack, the looming _war_...

Seeing Mr. Weasley _covered in blood_ was really driving it all home.

"We'll be alright," Hermione said, with a troubled grin. "At least you'll get to see Sirius soon."

"Yeah, you're right," Harry replied, shooting her one of his own. "And, Professor Dumbledore said he'd excuse us from the last week of school," he smiled a little wider.

She bumped against his shoulder good naturedly. "Of course, that's what you'd be excited about."

* * *

**A/N: First off, huge round of applause to my betas for this chapter, Lilliparadox, and 1000 Faces of Pain. This chapter was a struggle and a half, on my part. I don't write 'frazzled' characters very well, among other things. But, anyways, again, huge thank you's all the way around. This chapter would not have been published without the two of them. **

**This is the first time Justin and Dumbledore have had a major disagreement. But, I figure it was inevitable considering that I've put two fairly powerful leaders, with totally different styles on the same team. I do want to address that this chapter isn't meant to Dumbledore bash, nor do I buy into the whole 'Dumbledore was an evil, manipulative psycho who spent his whole life trying to make Harry's as miserable as possible' fan theory. In fact, I think Dumbledore is awesome, he's one of my favorite characters. That said, Justin definitely disagrees with his whole 'wait for fate' philosophy, and I wanted to make that very clear.**

**This chapter is fairly filler-ish. Apologies, I say exciting things are coming, and then I end up writing another Justin/Dumbledore conversation, haha. I always plan for time skips, but then I realize they'd be overly jarring, and end up having to throw in some sort of transition. I wanted to skip over the whole Harry/Dumbledore 'there's been an attack' scene, because I figured we've all read it before. But, then I realized the pacing would be thrown off, and voila - a whole chapter full of stuff I hadn't planned on including is born.**

**But, I'll cut myself off before I really start rambling at you, haha. I don't have any deleted scenes to send for the chapter. There was lot's of rewriting but hardly any actual outtakes. Just this one, which I'll include here since it's short:**

Dumbledore's own expression furrowed, mirroring the other teacher's uncertainty.

"Professor Law...were you actually sent here to defeat Voldemort yourself?" he asked.

"What?" Justin replied. "Of course. Why else would I have come?"

"To combine intel...to weaken him as much as possible-"

"-I told you, when I got here, that he needed to be put down," Justin replied.

**Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a review on your way out.**


	18. Chapter 17

"You guys are surprisingly good at this," Sirius said.

The Weasley matriarch had all the kids cleaning one of the drawing rooms. There was a layer of grime on everything, and it was attracting _huge_, bioluminescent moths. One group was cleaning, the other had the slightly more exciting job of keeping the bugs away with repellant-filled spray bottles. The winged creatures were awfully attached to their dust piles, and would dive bomb the group as soon as anyone tried to clear them away.

Sirius thought it was hilarious, and alternated between laughing at whoever happened to get attacked, and impressed whistles whenever someone managed to take one of the bugs down, which actually happened fairly frequently.

"It's Professor Law's fault," George said, shooting across the room to knock a moth out of the air from at least ten or so feet away.

Ginny nodded, and perfectly hit a target of her own, in the same motion. "This is cake, compared to his lessons."

She shot three more down, just to emphasize her point.

Sirius grinned. "Professor Law? Haven't heard of him. He must be good though. You guys are pros. What does he teach?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione said. "His lessons are almost entirely practical-"

"-and insane," Fred said. "I cannot tell you how many times I've left his classroom covered in pink paint."

The animagus snorted. "Pink paint? What? _Why_?" he paused, and laughed again. "More importantly, have you gotten even yet?"

The twins released twin groans.

"Not even close," George said, shaking his head.

"Oh?" Sirius said. "Why not? There's no way I would have let a teacher get away with that in my day."

"Ha!" Fred said sardonically. "Well, there weren't any Professor Laws in your day, old man. Believe me, we've tried."

"Old man?" Sirius said, adopting an affronted look.

"We can't get into his office, or his living quarters," George said, ignoring him completely. Sirius released an exaggeratedly annoyed huff as his complaint went unanswered, but kept listening.

"And, one of the House Elves in the kitchens just _loves_ him," Fred continued. (Dizzy, or Dripsy, or something like that.) "So, we can't do _anything _to his food either."

"Why not during one of his lessons then?" Sirius asked. "That's sometimes the best place to strike. Teachers never expect it."

The entire room burst into laughter. The animagus's expression quickly turned confused.

"Good one!" George said, holding his side.

"What?" Sirius asked. "What's the big deal?"

"Oh, Sirius," Fred said, still chuckling, but also shaking his head. "Poor, poor, naive Sirius. Do you want us to die? 'Cause, that's what would happen if we tried that."

"What are you talking about?" Sirius asked.

"Professor Law's hyper observant," George said. "There's no way we're going to get away with anything right in front of him. And, the last thing we want is to serve a detention with the resident drill sergeant."

"Please," Ginny said. "It doesn't matter where you prank him, or how. He's going to know it was you."

"That's not," Fred dramatically pointed a finger at her. "...untrue. Actually, you're probably right," and lowered it.

"Okay, I have to meet this guy," Sirius said, laughing himself. "Is he really that strict?"

"He's not really strict at all," Hermione said, looking over from the chair she was scrubbing down. "At least, not in the traditional sense. He just has an air of-"

"-sit down, shut up, learn now?"

"-don't mess with me, or I'll end you?"

"-I was going to say seriousness," Hermione said dryly. "Which sounds sort of awkward in hindsight. Anyways, he's the sort of person that doesn't have to tell the class to be quiet. We just...are."

"Well, that's a real skill when you're a teacher, I guess," Sirius said. "But, come on guys," he turned to address the twins directly. "I'm sure you can get him. Want help? I'd be glad to brainstorm prank ideas with-"

"-No you won't!" Molly said, walking into the room. "Honestly, Sirius, would it kill you to act your age? And, you two," she rounded on her identical sons. "Behave yourselves. It's amazing you haven't gotten yourselves kicked out of school already!"

"Yes, mum," they sing-songed in unison.

She only shook her head and turned to address the rest of the room. "Supper's downstairs. Thank you all for your help today. I'll let you take the rest of the week off. We can get started again after Christmas."

Fred and George both let out loud cheers, and apparated into the kitchen. Their two spray bottles crashed to the floor, and spilled fluorescent yellow on the carpet, in their absence.

Mrs. Weasley immediately pivoted around.

"Fred! George! Get back up here, right now!" she turned back to the rest of the group and smiled. "Feel free to head downstairs, dears," and then her warm expression disappeared in the same instant. "Fred! George! Right now! And _walk!_"

Harry laughed, and made to leave with his friends. Sirius walked out behind them, and ruffled his godson's hair good naturedly.

"Everything alright, Harry?" he asked, once the rest of the group had moved a little past them. "You've been awfully quiet since you got here."

Harry nodded once under the warm hand, still resting in his hair. "Everything's fine. I've just been tired."

"Well, alright then," Sirius said, dropping his arm to his side and looking relieved. He'd obviously felt obligated to ask, but seemed grateful they didn't actually need to talk about anything. "If you say so. Let's go get food."

Harry smiled, and nodded again.

In truth, he was lying. Just a bit.

He felt _contaminated_. There was an inky feeling moving under his skin.

It was all in his head. He knew that.

It still felt wrong though.

He'd spent the first part of the week holed up with Buckbeak, or in his room. But, his friends had cornered him, and forced him to talk to them. And, he was very grateful for that. Ginny, having her own experience with possession, had especially managed to convince him that he _wasn't_ being controlled by Voldemort.

However, while he knew that logically, he still dreamt of snakes, and a desperate desire to get behind the same door Mister Weasley had been guarding during the attack. That alone made it hard to dispel the lingering anxiety. He barely slept some nights, and he spent his days worried that he might turn on his friends at any moment.

But, it was all in his head. It wasn't going to happen, Voldemort _wasn't _controlling him. So, there was no need to bother Sirius with phantom fears, and _nightmares_, of all things. Not when everyone in the Order had real, tangible problems of their own to face.

Harry shook his head though, once they reached the kitchen, and took a seat at the table. There were various Order members spread throughout the room, which meant there was probably a meeting afterwards. He didn't know for sure, having been delegated to cleaning duties all day.

That was sort of annoying. He had no problem with helping, but the fact that he still wasn't allowed hardly any information about the Order bothered him. A lot.

"Molly, these rolls are just heavenly," Madame Pomfrey said, breaking Harry out of his thoughts.

Mrs. Weasley beamed from her place at the stove. She was still cooking, but she also had half an army to feed, so that wasn't particularly surprising.

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Poppy. Feel free to have as many as you like. I can make you a batch to take home, if you'd like?"

"Oh no," Pomfrey said. "You've already done plenty. I'd be thrilled if I could cook even half as well as you."

There were a few chuckles, and agreeing nods tossed throughout the room at that statement.

"It'd be no trouble," Molly replied, managing to look both proud and embarrassed with the same expression. "Really, I can't thank you enough for what you're doing. I'm sure my husband feels the same."

"Yes, well," Pomfrey said. "I may not be a part of your Order, but Albus asked me to come here personally, and I'm not one to abandon a patient in need, regardless. Though, why he insisted on pulling Mister Weasley from St. Mungo's, I honestly have no idea. That's where he should really be, I can only do so much here."

"We're still very grateful," Molly replied.

"And, you're very welcome," Pomfrey said, and then stood up. "I think I'll go check on your husband, and then head back to Hogwarts. Thank you for the wonderful meal."

Molly nodded, and spelled the medi-witches plate into the sink, clearing room for another person to sit down and start eating.

The pattern continued for awhile, until the food start disappearing, and more people started coming in. Harry and his friends knew they were going to be shuffled out soon, but doggedly refused to leave until someone made them.

Which happened fairly quickly.

"All right, you lot," Mrs. Weasley said, gesturing to the trio and her youngest, and shooting a begrudging look at Fred and George. "Time to scootch out. We'll have dessert afterwards, you're welcome to come back in after that."

He knew it was a pointless argument. But...well, it wasn't some far off idea any more. The war was happening _now._ The attack had made that very clear. He couldn't afford to just sit around.

"Mrs. Weasley," Harry said. "I _need _to stay."

His friends all shot surprised glances at him, but they quickly turned determined once they realized how serious he was.

"He's right, mum," Ron said.

"It's not a game anymore," Harry said. "We need to be prepared."

Molly's expression darkened. "You're right, boys. It's not a game. So, there's no reason for children to be involved-"

"-involved in what?" another voice broke into the conversation. "I apologize, I'm afraid I'm a bit late."

Half the room jumped, as the building tension snapped, but Dumbledore only held up a steadying hand and made his way into the room.

Harry's eyes widened as another person followed him in.

Huh, so. He'd been right then, about him being a member of the Order.

Professor Law stood at Dumbledore's side, sporting a completely apathetic expression, and wearing an outfit even weirder than Dumbledore's canary yellow robes. It was a black and gray robe/coat hybrid, with big buttons and a white shawl, which made the silver cross he always wore stand out even more noticeably. He also had a flat hat on his head, and white cross designs on his flared, black sleeves.

In addition to that, he had a pair of skull shaped buds in each ear, and the pounding, electric beat was loud enough that he could hear it from his place at the table.

"It's no trouble, Professor Dumbledore," Molly said, ignoring the newcomer for the time being, and addressing the Headmaster. "I was only telling the children that they need to leave until the meeting's over."

"Best get to it then," Dumbledore said, looking at the four of them. "You don't-"

"Headmaster," Professor Law said, cutting into the conversation.

Professor Dumbledore paused, and turned to look at him.

"You should let him participate."

Molly immediately rounded on the teacher. "Now, look here, young man. I don't know who you are, but-"

"-No," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. "He's right."

What?

"_What_?" Mrs. Weasley said, obviously wondering the same thing, though likely for different reasons.

"Harry, dear boy, why don't you stay for this meeting?" Dumbledore said, turning to address his dark haired student.

"I-um, okay," Harry stuttered. He'd been geared up for a fight, but hadn't actually expected to win. "Thank you, sir. And, you too, Professor," Harry continued, nodding at the other teenager.

Professor Law nodded back, and shot him a quick, knowing smile, before his features re-schooled themselves back into polite apathy.

Harry grinned back.

The Defense professor was slowly starting to become one of his favorite people. It was more and more apparent just how much Law was on his side.

There weren't words strong enough to describe just how _relieved_ he felt. Law was standing up for him, Dumbledore was letting him sit in on a meeting...that had to mean that it wasn't..._dangerous_ for him to do so. He wasn't a mole, Voldemort _wasn't _using him like a window, looking in on the Order and all their plans.

The weight on his shoulders, the grimy, _contaminated_ feeling were both fading.

"Professor?" Molly asked, looking skeptical. "You're a teacher?"

Several of the other Order members, sans current Hogwarts staff, had matching expressions, or just looked surprised. Though, whether it was because Professor Law looked so young, or because he'd actually managed to get Dumbledore to listen to him, Harry didn't know.

"That's correct," Law said, nodding politely. "I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore said. "I should probably introduce you all. Everyone, this is Professor Justin Law. As he said, he is the current Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and Hogwarts has been lucky to have him. I _personally _asked him to come here, so I hope you'll all be very welcoming. Professor Law," the Headmaster said, gesturing around the room. "This is the Order of the Phoenix."

"It's a pleasure," Law said, bowing lightly to the whole room.

"_That's _Law?" Sirius said, under his breath.

"You know him?" Remus whispered back.

"What? No," Sirius said. "I just expected-" something else. The awesome, super intimidating, 'hyper' observant, teacher was...a twig in a weird costume? He barely looked out of school himself. "More, I guess. The kids act like he's the stuff of legends."

"Well, he's definitely eccentric," Remus said. "That's not an outfit you see everyday."

Eccentric wasn't incorrect. However, intimidating wasn't the vibe he got from the kid. He was a bit more versed in 'muggle-ness' than most of his magical peers. Black clothing, skull and cross motif, loud music, and an 'couldn't care less' expression was more the look of a textbook punk, rather than a severe teacher.

Someone else was talking though, and Sirius turned his attention back towards the conversation.

"Professor Law," Flitwick said, smiling widely. "I am _thrilled _to see you here."

"Couldn't agree more. Will you be joining the Order then?" Sprout asked.

Even the other teachers? Apparently _everyone _at Hogwarts liked Professor Law.

"I'm just observing," Law said. "For now, at least."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Yes, and it took quite a bit of wheedling to get him to do even that."

But, why? The kid couldn't be anything too special, considering how young he was. Why put a ton of effort into recruiting him then?

Unless he really _was _that big of a deal. All the evidence seemed to be pointing that way at least. It wasn't everyday someone challenged one of Dumbledore's decisions, and actually won_._

"Defeating the Dark Lord isn't a worthy enough goal to dedicate your _precious_ time to, Law?" Snape sneered, from his place near the back of the room.

And Snape didn't like him? Suddenly, his impression of the kid skyrocketed.

"Bringing Voldemort down is well worth my time," Law replied.

Shocked exclamations reverberated throughout the room at the boy's casual name drop. Even Snape raised a set of dark eyebrows, before his usual disdain resettled on his face.

"And, if your Order proves the same, then, I look forward to working with you all."

Mad-Eye scoffed, and fixed his swirling, mechanic eye on the Defense professor.

"You talk big, kid," he said. "Planning to take You-Know-Who out on your own if we don't live up to your high expectations?"

"Enough, Alastor," Dumbledore cut in. "I think we've spent enough time on introductions. Let's get started with the meeting then."

"Now wait just a minute, Headmaster. You're not actually serious about this? Harry's not even of age," Molly said, pulling the conversation back to where it had started.

"Harry's in the middle of things, whether we want him to be or not," Sirius said, speaking up. "I agree with the kid, there's no point in trying to keep him out of the loop anymore."

"_Kid_ is correct," Molly huffed. "You don't look much older than Harry yourself," she said, turning to address Law. "When did we start recruiting children?" and that question was directed back towards the group.

"Does age really matter?" Justin asked, stopping anyone else from responding to her question.

It was a question that'd been bothering him for awhile. This society seemed so hung up on it. It'd be one thing if they were _right_, and people before a certain age were incapable. But, he'd met (he _was_) plenty of teenagers just as able as anyone in the room. Even more so, if he was being completely realistic. A fifteen year old girl had taken down Asura. He doubted there was a single person in the Order, Dumbledore included, who'd last longer than five seconds against the majority of the threats the DWMA faced.

He understood where they were coming from in this particular instance, because frankly, Potter _wasn't_ anywhere near that talented. However, he could be. Or, at least, he could be better. The only reason he wasn't, was because the Headmaster had been coddling him because of his _age._ Again.

It was completely illogical, cyclical reasoning. They were worried about his involvement in the war because of how young he was, but wouldn't prepare him for it because of how young he was.

Especially in the case of Dumbledore, who believed, fully, that Harry was someday going to play an active role in the looming fight, it made no sense to the Death Scythe. At least the red-haired woman arguing against his student's inclusion seemed to believe that he needed to be kept out of it entirely.

Ironically, he actually completely agreed with her. If it were up to him, Potter wouldn't have a role at all. But, he also believed in preparing for the worse case scenario, even if the idea of a _prophecy_ was ridiculous, so he'd be doing what he could to encourage Dumbledore's hero into competency.

And, really, they were going to let Potter sit in on a meeting, not send him off to battle. The vehemently negative response seemed like a bit of an overreaction.

"Of course it matters!" Molly said. "Children have no business going up against You-Know-Who."

"Children or not-" Justin started.

"-Why should we take anything you say seriously, Law? You're, what? Eighteen? If that's not an obvious bias, I don't know what is," Snape said, cutting the Death Scythe off, and adding his own two cents to the conversation.

A current of shock made its way around the room. The Defense professor was obviously young, but the Order members not directly affiliated with Hogwarts hadn't realized he was _that _young.

"Eighteen?!" Molly fumed. "You're barely of age yourself!"

"I can assure you," Justin said. (This _again_?) "That, regardless of my age, I have just as much experience as many in this room."

"_Experience_?" Mad-eye said, almost sarcastically. "With what? You're just a kid."

He had headphones in. He was going to ignore that.

That was one positive to the whole situation. Grimmauld Place didn't have any restrictions on technology. Once the meeting was done, he planned to electronically check in with the various branches he was in charge of.

"This is ridiculous, Headmaster," Molly said. "Neither of them should be here."

"Why not?" Harry said hotly, taking his own stance in the conversation. "In case you've forgotten, I'm one of the only people in here that's actually faced Voldemort in person. I can help!"

"That doesn't mean you should have to again!" Molly replied.

"You're wrong, Molly. Harry's a part of this fight, whether we want it or not," Sirius said. "He needs to be prepared."

"He doesn't have to be a part of it, Sirius!" she retorted hotly. "It's our job to pull him out of the conflict, not encourage him _into _it!"

"He's already there!" Sirius replied angrily. "You-Know-Who has targeted him personally how many times now? Do you think he's just going to stop because you think Harry isn't old enough to fight back?"

The group had devolved into full-out arguing. Justin frowned. The Order lacked a certain level of professionalism he expected in these sorts of meetings. But, on the other hand, the DWMA was hardly a shining beacon of order and discipline. He'd been in ones that were even worse.

"_Enough_!" Dumbledore said.

The room quieted down immediately. Well, Dumbledore's group was loud, but they obviously respected him, and Justin could respect that.

"Molly, I understand completely your position and the concerns associated with it," he said, turning to look at the Weasley matriarch. "I share them myself. However, the world we wish for, and the hard lines we must take when that world does not come to pass, are unfortunately not one and the same," he paused, and sent a firm look at the entirety of the room.

"Harry has a right to be here, perhaps more than any of us," Dumbledore said sternly. "And, Professor Law, who isn't even a part of our society, nor has any personal stake in this fight, came to me, of his own volition, to join in our war with Voldemort at the beginning of the school year. So far, his aid has been invaluable, and I am certain he will continue to prove himself a worthy ally."

That was perhaps more than was needed to be said, but it's not like he could ask the Headmaster to take it back.

Justin suppressed a sigh as several skeptical expressions turned thoughtful, and directed their attention towards him. The last thing he needed was _more_ attention.

Dumbledore paused.

"I don't expect you all to agree with me on every decision, but it is my hope that you will respect them, regardless."

Molly pursued her lips, but nodded grudgingly. The rest of the room did the same, with more and less levels of reluctance, depending on what their personal opinions were on their inclusion.

"Enough of that then," Dumbledore said. "Let's get started, shall we?"

* * *

**A/N: There are a whopping 2600 words worth of outtakes for this chapter. I basically rewrote nearly every scene at least once, or twice, or twenty times, haha. (There's actually more then just 2600 words, but I'll be omitting the spoiler-y ones.) If you'd like an early copy of them, let me know in a review or PM and I'll send them to you asap. Otherwise, they'll be posted at the end with the rest of the deleted scenes. **

**I've been having a lot of difficulties writing this story lately. The last couple chapters have all given me serious grief. I haven't been a hundred percent happy with any of them. However, I'd rather press on, rather than stop updating just because I've hit a rough patch, haha. I'm really just coming to the conclusion that my writing style doesn't lend itself well to Soul Eater. Things need to be dramatic and flashy when you write anime, but that's really not my usual way of approaching plots or characters. **

**But, I digress, haha. I'm sure you're all wondering why Justin is meeting with the Order in the first place. All shall be explained soon. Stay tuned, and thanks for reading! Big thanks to my betas too! **


	19. Author's Note and Deleted Scenes

**A/N: So, this is one of those dreaded author's note chapters. I am officially discontinuing my entire fanfiction account. I've had a billion and ten personal problems lately, and I've come to the conclusion that hiding behind my computer screen isn't the way to solve them. As much as I enjoy fanfiction, it's becoming a bit of an unhealthy distraction. So, huge apologies, but this story is officially discontinued. However, I hate chapters that don't have any actual content, and I'd feel like a total hypocrite posting one myself, so, please enjoy 20,000+ words of extras and deleted scenes. Thanks so much for everyone who's followed/reviewed this story, your comments mean more than you know. :D**

* * *

**Alt. Summaries:**

Summary: Unfortunately, being the Death Scythe in charge of Europe meant lots of interaction with the large, but harmless, magical communities. After the rise of Voldemort what better way to infiltrate the school then as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Soul Eater/Harry Potter Crossover

Summary: Europe - Justin's division and the most magically saturated out of all the continents. He didn't really like getting involved with the large, but relatively harmless, magical communities scattered about his jurisdiction but, anything for Lord Death.

Summary: "Blessings of patience this day, O Lord. Help Thy servant refrain from strangling his students." Dark Wizards, Corrupted Souls, and Obnoxious Children. Justin is not excited to be hunting down "Lord Voldemort". He's even less excited about his cover - DADA Teacher at a school for Witches. But, anything for Lord Death.

* * *

**Chapter One: **

**(This isn't necessarily Chapter One, it's just the first scene I ever wrote for this story. But it ended up being cut)**

The room, upon entering, was mildly disorientating. The lighting was dim, the only source being a few sparsely dispersed red candles floating above them. The walls and floor were black and the desks were white. The contrast between the two was striking and coupled with the lack of light, created the illusion that the small tables were floating in space, separate, apart and completely unanchored to anything.

"Not quite what I expected," Harry said, after sitting down at a desk towards the back.

"What did you expect?" Ron asked, having sat down to the left of him.

"Not sure, but not a room this dark," Harry replied.

"It is pretty dark, isn't it," a voice from the front of the room said.

The religiously-robed professor gave the floating candles a skeptical look.

"Professor!" Hermione said, as the trio turned to regard their new teacher, who they were still having a hard time seeing. "We didn't see you."

"I suppose that would be due to the lack of light," the professor replied. "One minute."

A few words were mumbled and a swarm of glowing balls flew from the front of the room and towards the ceiling. As they did so, the room was filled with light and the illusion keeping the desks suspended in space was broken.

The light still flickered, due to the movement of the orbs and candles, but overall, everything was much more visible.

"You're here early," the Defense Professor remarked.

"We didn't want to be late for the first class of the year," Hermione replied.

"_We_ isn't quite how I would phrase it," Harry said. "She," he gestured towards Hermione, "was worried, and Ron and I let her drag us along."

Justin smiled lightly. "So you're Ron," he said, pointing towards the red-head. "I'm afraid I don't know the rest of your names."

"Right, sorry, how rude of me," Hermione rambled. "I'm Hermione Granger."

"I'm Ronald Weasley."

Harry sighed inwardly and said, "I'm Harry Potter."

The defense professor nodded. "Right, it's a pleasure to meet the three of you. I'm Professor Law."

Harry found his opinion of the professor rising after the complete non-reaction

* * *

**Chapter Two:**

It was bizarre, seeing a religious wizard. After the rampant witch hunts in the middle ages most all magical people had pulled away from the church. Occasionally a muggle-born would remain religious throughout their schooling, but it was rare, as most children who came from religious families would choose not to come to Hogwarts.

Tom pointed to her. "This is Professor Mcgonagall, I think she's here for you."

The boy looked at her and bowed his head lightly. "I apologize for not recognizing you," he said, holding out his hand. "I'm Justin Law."

Now that he was facing her, she couldn't help but notice that his eyes were almost purple. Interesting.

"Deputy Headmistress Minerva Mcgonagall," she replied, shaking his hand. "I wouldn't have know who you were if Tom hadn't pointed you out to me, so don't feel too bad."

"Feel free to take a seat Justin."

"Thank you," the boy said, sitting down.

The headmaster studied him for a few seconds (the boy had perfect posture when he sat) before saying, "Tell me a bit about your qualifications Mr. Law."

The boy nodded. "Before I talk about that, let me explain a little bit about how the DWMA works."

"Why Hogwarts? You were schooled in America and with your qualifications you could probably go anywhere."

"I'm here because this is where I am ordered." The boy looked him straight in the eyes, "Tom Marvolo Riddle, alias, Lord Voldemort, is a corrupted soul. I am the Head of the DMWA's Western European division, thus it falls to me to eliminate him. I was hoping that with our combined resources the task would be made easier."

**Chapter Three:**

Justin waved his wand and a row of white flames sputtered into existence on the wicks of at least fifty red candles. A quick slash sent them floating into the air where they formed groups of three.

They bobbed lazily above the classroom casting strange shadows across his white desks (charmed to avoid getting dirty) and black walls.

Between the only light source being candles and the walls being black it was a little too dark for it to be a comfortable learning environment.

"Colorvaria."

The color change charm began working rapidly as red and black bled out of the room, leaving everything in it a pale sort of off-white. The two colors collected in the center of the class forming two shapeless, but richly stained, blobs.

They twitched at the motion of Justin's wand as he subtly directed small parts of them into different areas of his school room.

Red walls? No too gaudy.

Red desks? No, see above. The candles were going to have to stay red. He threw a few splotches of white up with the darker color, but quickly pulled them back.

No. Definitely not.

* * *

He smiled politely, (hopefully it didn't look as strained as it felt) and said, "It stands for Weapon-Meister Academy. The D is just there because for Academy, I don't know why we don't call it WMA."

"Weapon-Meister? What does that mean?" Flitwick said.

"It's a title of sorts," Justin said. "At the academy, we aren't normally taught using wands. Instead, we prefer to use weapons to channel our magic. So we don't really think of ourselves as being witches or wizards, we prefer the term Meister."

"That's fascinating," Flitwick replied.

"Dangerous though," Mcgonagall said. "What do you mean by weapons?"

"It really depends on the Meister," Justin said. "Scythes are most common, but some students use swords, others guns, one even uses a pair of magic gauntlets."

"You give children access to something that dangerous?" she asked incredulously.

"How is a sword any more dangerous than a wand?" Justin countered. "It would be easy to conjure one, or even do something a lot worse than anything they could do with their weapon."

Mcgonagall looked ready to respond when Sprout cut in, hoping to stop the debate before it even began.

"What sort of weapon do you use Professor Law?"

"Some people call it a scythe," Justin said. "But, more accurately, it's a weaponized guillotine."

None of the professors really knew what that meant, so Sprout moved on to her next question.

"Interesting," she said. "So if you're taught using weapons, can you use a wand?"

"I haven't been able to until recently," Justin said. "But yes, I've been practicing."

"It's not difficult to channel my magic differently. The real problem is remembering all the spells. At the Academy we tend to focus more on spells that have been individualized for our weapons. In fact, the spells I use the most are all completely unique to me. Without my weapon, it's impossible to perform them."

"You've invented your own spells?" Professor Sprout asked.

"Yes," Justin said. "Most students at the Academy have."

Several eyebrows raised as Justin confirmed several rumors about how talented students at the school were.

"That's very impressive," Sprout said, after a few moments had passed.

Justin nodded and turned back to his food. The professors followed his example and the room was, again, filled with conversation.

Justin sighed quietly in relief. But something told him that his break from the interrogation would be short-lived.

He had a lot of Q&amp;A sessions in his future.

* * *

**Chapter Four: **

"Excited to meet the students, Professor?" Sprout asked.

"I am," Justin smiled, his fork hovering on it's way to his mouth. "At this point, I'm excited for anything to happen."

"Anything?" Sprout asked.

Justin paused, he'd said too much again. "Yes. I suppose you could say that what I do usually involves a lot more...movement. I'm not too good at sitting around and waiting."

"It's only been a week, Professor," Sprout laughed.

"True," Justin said. "But I've been away from my work for a month and a half now. It's a little more stressful than I expected it to be."

"Your work? Do you have another job besides teaching?"

"Nothing that takes precedence," Justin said, lying to reassure her. His work with the DWMA would always be more important that a few magical students, but he wasn't going to tell them that. "But I do have a variety of duties outside of Hogwarts in both academic and religious settings."

"Well, don't worry Professor. Teaching is extremely fulfilling. I'm sure that you'll find that it was more than worth the wait."

"Here, here," a couple of the other teachers chimed in.

* * *

"This room is amazing," Justin said as he spun around, trying to take it all in.

The Room of Requirement was almost entirely empty, but had expanded to be extremely large. The floor was wood and the walls were stone and it was filled with plenty of light.

"It is," Dumbledore said. "I've been here for many years, and Hogwarts still continues to impress me."

"I wish there was a more practical way for people at the Academy to use magic," Justin said. "It would be extremely convenient for us to be able to have rooms like this."

"Are you the only wizard at your school Justin?" Dumbledore asked.

Justin smiled and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "In all reality, Headmaster, I'm not a wizard at all. I'm only able to use magic because of my wand," he said, pulling the piece of wood out of his pocket. "Lord Death created it to mimic your magic when I compress my soul wavelengths through it. However, from what I understand, it's far too difficult a process to replicate often, so there's no feasible way that every student at the Academy could have one."

"You continue to surprise me, Mr. Law," Dumbledore chuckled. "I should have guessed. Your headmaster," Dumbledore still had a hard time referring to Him as Lord Death, "did say that you weren't taught magic."

"Yes, that's right," Justin said. "We learn a variety of martial arts, and how to use our souls to augment our natural abilities. Observe."

Justin picked up his cross and held it to his face.

"O Lord Who Dwells In The Holy City.

May Thy Name Be Kept True.

Give Me Strength, O Lord, As I, Thy Humble Servant, Do Thy Sacred Work. "

As the boy prayed, a blue orb, shining and rippling with brilliant light, grew around him. The diameter of it grew wider and wider as a giant, black and silver, guillotine and a white cross appeared on it. As Justin's soul continued to expand, a ring of wooden targets appeared around him.

Justin held his right arm out and a curved blade formed in a flash of white light.

"Saint Cross Knife."

The boy slashed his arm down and the ring of targets became of ring of glowing crosses, before exploding into chunks of wood.

As the pieces of wood hit the floor, they morphed into a set of mannequins all of which jumped up and proceeded to attack the Defense Professor. The professor was quick to meet them with a martial arts form that alternated between powerful attacks delivered to opponents locked in place by a large black shackle that grew out of his arm and graceful acrobatic dodges.

Dumbledore didn't claim to be any sort of expert in hand to hand combat, but the contrast between the way Justin attacked and the way he avoided attacks was interesting. One minute he'd been flipping in the air and leaping away from his enemy, the next he'd have that same person held in a way that prevented the two of them from moving any more than a few centimeters apart from each other.

* * *

**Chapter Five:**

Besides the bookshelves, there was also some randomly distributed furniture, mainly tables, chairs, and the occasional lamp which seemed all seemed to be part of some eclectic collection, as they all had a similar theme, birds, but were all styled, colored and designed completely differently. The room was a little dark for somewhere people were expected to read in, but Justin could only assume that was to protect the books from sun and other light damage.

It'd taken him about a day to develop the technique. Joys of being a prodigy. Learn quick, get bored even quicker.

And dinner was in a few minutes. He really wasn't fond of the big group staff meals.

Questions, questions, questions.

Lying, lying, lying.

Politics. He didn't care about politics.

His head was pounding. He didn't like large groups of people. Especially not large groups of people making large amounts of noise when he didn't have his headphones.

He was irritated. He disliked this mission. And he didn't really want to change his clothes.

What right did she have? He'd been wearing the same outfit for over four years. Why break routine just to appease some pink mound of fuzz?

On the other hand, Lord Death himself had given him advice on how to dress in the Wizarding world. Not an order, (he never would have disobeyed) but advice none the less.

It was okay to change his clothes, he didn't doubt that. But he didn't want to. He didn't _want_ to.

He also had an assignment a

His head hurt.

He winced minutely.

"Headmaster," Justin spoke up and stood up. "I can find other clothes, there's not point in getting the Minister involved in something so unimportant. If you don't mind, I'd like to be excused."

"Wait a minu-"

The Defense Professor had already dashed out of the room.

Justin collapsed on his bed.

He hadn't been able to finish his dinner prayers, he'd been forced into a crowded room full of loud, unhappy people, without his headphones, he was going to have to change the outfit he'd worn for the entirety of the past four years of his existence, maybe even longer. He was in a school where his contact with his God was limited and he was relying on other people to get most of his non-mission related work done.

His routine was ruined.

High-functioning or not, his OCD was having a hard time at Hogwarts.

But, he knew how to deal with it.

He pulled out his wand and waved it around. The song he listened to, over and over and over, filled the room.

It wasn't the same. But, it was better than nothing.

He waved his wand again, the volume increased significantly.

Justin flicked his wand again and a dark blindfold immediately blacked out his vision.

He kneeled down on his floor and sat.

And sat. And sat.

* * *

**Chapter Six:**

He was wearing a gray button down shirt, complemented by a black tie, and a pair of black pants. Over the ensemble was a knee-length, sleeveless black robe, cinched around his waist by a piece of white fabric, the only lighter color present in his outfit. His hair was blonde, skin pale, and Harry thought he could see a slight glimmer of silver around his neck, but he was too far away to be sure.

"His outfit is a little Muggle," Hermione said. "Not that there's anything wrong with that. But especially if he didn't have the robe, I'd think he was an accountant or something of that nature."

Harry agreed, his clothes were less typical wizarding styles and more like he'd slapped on a last minute addition to make an otherwise non-magical outfit fit in.

* * *

**Chapter Seven:**

Luckily, breakfast was a little more sedate than the welcoming feast had been. Most of the students were staring around blearily, with eyes that suggested they hadn't gotten enough sleep. That or they weren't quite adjusted to a school schedule after months of summer break. That was a pretty common complaint after any breaks at the DWMA too, even if breaks themselves weren't quite as common as they were at Hogwarts. After all, their enemies didn't take month long holidays during the summer and the DWMA didn't either.

Justin grabbed a piece of toast off the platter of different breakfast breads and set it on his plate. He really didn't have much of an appetite. There was a fluttery feeling in his stomach that he refused to admit was nerves.

He'd fought down all sorts of enemies, a few children weren't going to make him nervous.

Really.

It's not like it was anything too terrifying. Just a big group of people, all focused on him, that he had to listen to, and talk to, without headphones on and...the feeling was only getting worse.

He shook his head and brought the piece of toast to his mouth. He left off any toppings, he wasn't sure he'd be able to keep something as rich as butter or marmalade down at that point.

The defense professor ate a few bites before setting it back down. He felt a little sick.

One of his hands found his cross and he rubbed single finger against the skull. He bowed his head and mumbled a quick prayer.

He could get through this.

"Professor Law."

Justin looked up and smiled at the man seated next to him. "Headmaster, good morning."

"Good morning," Dumbledore replied.

The man was dressed in horribly bright green robes. The two of them cut an interesting figure, with Dumbledore in his usual bright colors and Justin in his typical black and gray (Hogwarts -1, Umbridge - 0 by the way).

"After class today I was hoping you'd be able to stop by my office."

"Of course, Headmaster," Justin said.

Dumbledore's volume lowered dramatically, "Now that I know for sure what trump cards our enemy has, I feel much better able to move forward. A step I'm sure you'd like to discuss at length."

Justin nodded.

* * *

Justin was halfway out of the bed before the thing had fully materialized.

The creature, whatever it was, gave a startled squeak, as the Death Scythe's hand found its throat. The other hand had his wand (not one of his blades - he was getting better at this magic thing) pointed straight at its forehead. Justin slammed it against the wall, keeping it firmly suspended off the floor.

"Who are you?"

"D-d-d-drr-drippyy...sir."

His brain, wired, as always, for combat, was quickly taking inventory of the enemy in front of him.

Small, crying, female.

Crying.

Justin dropped it immediately. It scurried as far away from him as the small room acting as his bedroom would allow.

"H-h-h-he-head-headmaster Dumbledore wants to be seeing y-y-you b-b-b-be-before breakfast, in his off-ff-ffice, ssss-s-s-sir."

Justin nodded at the creature and crouched down.

"I am so sorry. Reacting like that was inexcusable," he said. "Are you alright?"

The creature's eyes widened. "No, no. It was Drippy's fault, Drippy should not have come into Master, Professor's bedroom. Drippy should have knocked. Drippy can't do anything right."

With that said, and much to Justin's horror, the creature ran over to the nearest wall and began banging her head against it.

* * *

Justin stood on the raised platform in the middle of the class. The tiers of chairs surrounding him were steadily filling up with his first class, a group of fourth year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws.

It was an interesting dynamic the school had going on. The two Houses, while fairly amiable to each other, were also noticeably divided. The Gryffindors were steadily filling up one side of the room, and the Ravenclaws were quick to fill the other. (The Ravenclaws were actually much quicker. The majority of them had been seated minutes after the bell had rung, the Gryffindors were still filing in.) At first glance, it seemed like a bad idea to cause divides among the students from day one, but he could also see how the potential competition could push them all to try harder, do better. But, overall, he still found the framework of the school impractical.

Pretty much everyone in wizarding Britain went to Hogwarts. And once they left Hogwarts they still mainly socialized with the people they socialized with in school, aka the people who had been in their respective Houses. So, as far as he could see, Hogwarts' house system didn't just stratify students, but also the whole of adult society. More than anything, it was strange to think that everyone's social circles for the entirety of their lives were decided at age eleven.

Not that he had any right to criticize anything to do with the word "social"...besides the last of his students had filtered in and he needed to stop musing and start teaching.

"Good Morning!"

A few students, dozing in their seats (obviously not adjusted to being back in school) snapped to attention. The rest of the class just winced.

Well, if nothing else, their newest teacher was very loud.

Justin immediately modulated his volume.

Right, the class wasn't that big. No reason to shout.

And really, he wasn't nervous at all.

"Right, sorry, good morning," he said, at a much lower decibel.

A few students mumbled responses but the majority of them seemed more interested in sizing him up than in being polite. It was his first day the DWMA all over again and Justin's first instinct was to pop a pair of headphones in and ignore them.

That obviously wasn't an option though, and he plowed on. "My name is Justin Law. Professor Law if you want to address me though."

* * *

She had to wonder if souls tasted good. But she doubted she'd ever have the opportunity to try one, murder tended to attract kliskies and she had no desire to run into any of those.

* * *

It was interesting, the two Houses seemed fairly amiable towards each other, but there was also a noticeable divide between the two. The Gryffindors took one side of the room, the Ravenclaws were quick to fill the other. (The Ravenclaws were actually much quicker. The majority of them had been seated minutes after the bell had rung, the Gryffindors were still filing in.) It was an interesting sort of dynamic the school had going on. He could see it working out to be both good and bad. Competition would encourage everyone to try harder, do better, but competition could also breed all sorts of animosity. Even the teachers had an unspoken but obviously present competitive streak, which again, had the potential to be both a positive and a negative.

But the last Gryffindor had taken their seat, so it was probably time to stop contemplating the framework of the school and start teaching.

* * *

"Good Morning, Students!" Justin said.

The class winced as a collective whole. If nothing else, their newest teacher was very loud.

Justin immediately modulated his volume. Right, the classroom wasn't that big - no reason to shout. And really, he wasn't nervous at all.

"My name is Professor Law, and for the duration of the year, I will be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

He continued, "My goal for this class is simple. Application. If you really needed to, could you defend yourself?" he smiled. "By the end of this class, all of you should be able to answer with a confident 'Yes!'. Any questions?"

At least ten hands went up.

* * *

Of all the teacher, he got along best with Flitwick. He hoped that didn't mean he'd accidentally aligned himself with Ravenclaw. The Ministry was giving him enough problems, the last thing he wanted to deal with was inter-house politics.

* * *

"Welcome Students!" Justin said.

The group of fourth years, a combination of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, winced. Well, if nothing else, their new teacher was very loud.

Justin immediately modulated his volume.

Right, the classroom wasn't that big. No reason to shout.

"My name is Professor Law and I am going to be your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher for the duration of this year."

He continued, "I'm going to take attendance. When I call your name say herea. After that, I'll answer any questions you may have about what Defense Against the Dark Arts is going to be like this year and then I'd like to get straight to the lesson."

So far, so good.

He read out the list of names from his roster, doing his best not to butcher any pronunciations, and ended with

"Weasley, Ginevra."

"Here," a red haired girl, towards the front of the room raised her hand. "Ginny is fine, Professor."

Justin nodded and made a note next to her name. "Of course, I'll keep that in mind. Is there anyone in here whose name I didn't call?"

No one raised their hands, so Justin continued. "Alright, are there any questions before we begin?"

No one raised their hands, but a dreamy voice from the back of the room asked, "Do souls taste good?"

Justin's eyes widened. He turned to look at the speaker, a blond girl, whose name he thought started with an L.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"You're a soul eater, right?"

"I'm afraid I don-"

One of the other students started laughing.

"Just ignore her, Professor. She's crazy."

Ginny immediately turned around to yell at the person who had spoken. "Hey don't talk about her like that."

"Shut it Weasley, just because the only friend you can afford is Loony Lovegood-"

"She's got more friends than you," the girl to Ginny's immediate left countered.

"Alright everyone," Justin cut in. "That's enough."

The class immediately quieted down and Justin gave a mental sigh of relief and flicked his wand at pile of papers off his desk.

"We're going to start with a pre-test-"

Cue groans as the papers flew up and landed in front of them.

"-so that I can get an accurate judge of where you are all at."

The class went quiet as the last paper was handed out.

* * *

**Chapter Eight:**

"_So, it was good?" Ron asked._

"_It was amazing," Ginny said. "I'm definitely excited for the rest of the class."_

"Think she was exaggerating?" Harry asked, as the trio of them walked out of the Great Hall.

"I hope not," Ron said. "I just missed ten minutes of lunch to get to his class early."

"I think you'll survive," Hermione said, dryly.

"Unhappily and without dessert," Ron replied. "What's the point?"

Harry laughed.

"Besides, how do we even know he's in his classroom? He's probably still eating like all the other normal people."

"I told you Ron, I saw him leave at least ten minutes ago," Hermione said.

"Oh, and that's not weird at all."

"You are so immature."

"Guys, we're here," Harry said.

* * *

Justin flopped onto his bed.

He hated this mission.

And he hated to admit that.

"Some servant," he said quietly as he stared at the ceiling. "Sincerest apologies, O Lord."

The pulsing of everyone's souls was starting to drive him crazy. It had been manageable when it had only been the other Professors but the students were here now and his head was _pounding_.

It had been years since he'd been around this many people without his headphones and his soul percept had only gotten stronger since then. It was like his soul recognized the efforts he made to cripple himself and had only increased in power in order to overcome that barrier.

He was going to have to find some sort of solution. He couldn't go on with a 24/7 migraine.

_Well _he could, would even, if he had to. He wasn't so weak, _unfaithful_, that a headache of all things would stop his mission. But that didn't mean he wouldn't look into alternate solutions before he sat back and accepted it.

* * *

**Chapter Nine:**

"You survived," Flitwick said, smiling widely at the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, who was sitting across from him at one of the small tables in the teacher's lounge. "Week one is officially over."

Justin flashed a small, and slightly tired, smile.

Week one. Every student had passed through his door at some point. He was a little exhausted to be entirely honest. It had been years since he'd last had to deal with such high volumes of teenagers. And he'd never had to _control_ them. Other teenagers at the DWMA had been peers, not his students. Being around them had been a chore then, let alone now.

And it's not that he wasn't used to being a position of authority. He was. From the age thirteen and on he'd been a pretty significant _world_ leader. Most people didn't even know he existed, but most of the decisions he made affected whether or not they would continue to. And he'd probably be the head of the European Branch for the rest of his life. Death Scythes were so rare after all.

It was easier. Much easier. Mountains of paperwork, constant travelling, dealing with subordinates from multiple cultures who spoke multiple languages, fighting off powerful monsters that wanted to kill him - it didn't hold a candle to teaching teenagers. Already he was missing his level-headed assistants and adult followers who already knew and respected him. The constant having to "prove himself", whether it be to his older co-workers or younger students, was getting frustrating. Very much so.

"It's very impressive Professor. Even my Ravenclaws have nothing but good to say, and they're by far the most critical students you'll ever have."

But, it seemed like he was slowly winning them over.

Justin nodded. "I'm glad to hear it."

Teaching wasn't his real reason for being here, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to try and do a good job. Defense against dark forces, of any sort, was something he took very seriously, and he hoped his students would be a little better prepared to protect themselves after taking his class.

"You'll have to tell me what you've been doing for the past week," Sprout said, joining their table and conversation. "My students don't seem to talk about anything else, but I haven't actually figured out what's so exciting about the whole thing."

Flitwick and her both looked on expectantly.

"I-" Justin paused. "Well, I didn't think it was anything too alien. I just took an exercise we do at the DWMA and tweaked it to fit in with Hogwarts' curriculum."

"To be honest," he continued. "I wasn't expecting it to be so difficult, 'exciting', I guess is the word everyone's using. At the DWMA it would be used as a warm-up activity, I was worried it would be a bit boring to do for an entire class period."

If he had to stand and shoot wavelengths at a target for an hour, he'd probably be struggling to stay awake by the end of it. Actually, thinking about it, he probably could do it in his sleep.

He went on to elaborate exactly what had happened in his classes throughout the week.

"That's, actually not a bad idea," Flitwick said. "If nothing else, it's a quick way to get some sort of gauge on where your students are at. Especially considering that you never attended Hogwarts in the first place. You probably don't have much precedence to pull from."

"It has been helpful," Justin agreed. "I completely exhausted my first class, but, by the end of the week, I had a pretty good idea of where to stop the exercise before that happened."

"You assumed an hour of speed-casting wouldn't tire them out?" Sprout asked, laughing. "I'm not even sure if I would be fully functional after that."

Flitwick laughed with her. "Can't say I'd do much better."

Justin looked on, a bit confused. Students, especially the younger ones, were one thing, but Professors too? Magic took such a miniscule amount of energy, he could probably cast non-stop spells for three months, maybe longer, if he needed to. A one-star meister could probably go for at least a day or two, longer if they had a talented partner.

"I supposed I overestimated a bit," Justin said after a few seconds pause.

"Could someone at your alma mater do better?" Flitwick said, catching on to the younger professor's subtle disbelief.

Justin adopted a slightly more neutral expression and shrugged. "It's not an activity we usually do for much longer than ten minutes. It's hard to compare."

Which wasn't necessarily true. But they didn't need to know that.

Sprout smiled and nodded her understanding at him. Flitwick just looked thoughtful.

"Could _you_ do better then?" he asked. "Some of our Seventh years are the same age as you. Are your own abilities at the same level? Or fairly accelerated?"

"They're just different," Justin replied. "The DWMA is all about specialization. So I'm very good at the things I've studied, but students here are a little more 'well-rounded'."

His defense skills were stellar, but he doubted he'd be able to pass even a first year potion test, for example.

Out of necessity and serious time restraints, the DWMA's learning style (gaining complete proficiency with specialized skills, rather than emphasizing large of amounts of generalized knowledge like Hogwarts did) was something he'd carried over into his study of magic. He'd focused entirely on the magics that he felt were most useful for his mission and pretty much ignored everything else. The only real exception was Transfiguration. It came so naturally that he'd decided to practice it out of pure curiosity. Although, thinking about it logically, considering that he transformed between two forms on a daily basis, it wasn't entirely surprising that changing the forms of other things just 'clicked'.

* * *

"Alright class. Good job. I'm not going to assign any homework today, but try to study the three spells we went over."

Justin paused and looked at the group of paint-splattered kids standing in the middle of his classroom, which was transfigured into a large, ovular arena to facilitate the latest of his, quickly becoming rather infamous, lessons.

Needless to say, it was unlikely his students would ever again question the necessity of a well-practiced and powerful shield spell. (And if they gained a healthy fear of muggle paint guns in the process, well that would only help them in real life too.)

He drew an arch with his wand and shimmering veil of light appeared in front of the door.

"Just walk through that on your way out and the paint should disappear. You're dismissed."

"And you're awesome!" one of the the students yelled.

The rest laughed but nodded along as they walked out.

* * *

It's not at like what I expected, and I'm realizing that I'm going to have to adapt a bit," he paused for a few seconds before continuing. "That said, I expected to dislike it. Teaching has been the biggest concern I've had about this mission, but if this week is any indication of what it's going to be like, then I think I could learn to enjoy it."

* * *

He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms high above his head before allowing the chair to smack down on the floor again. His wand sent the hovering papers flying back to his desk.

If there was one point of convenience in the statistics, it was that he wasn't going to have to customize his lesson plans much. The idea had been to come up with a basic outline and then tailor them to different classes as he saw fit. But, it looked like doing so wasn't going to be necessary for the vast majority.

There were exceptions of course. Hermione Granger was a name that stood out in a good way. Decent power levels, quicker and more accurate than most of her peers, a huge pool of spells. She blew everyone else out of the water when it came to the amount of incantations she knew.

In the same grade level, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were both fairly decent, even if his personal opinion of Mr. Malfoy wasn't quite as positive, and one Neville Longbottom was _horrible_.

If he had time, he'd have to offer some help to the boy. No one could be that incompetent through anything other than neglect. His ability range wasn't so much "I have no talent" as "I have no idea how to do any of this".

Or maybe he was just having an off day. Statistics didn't lie, and his test had produced fairly consistent ones, so he knew it was mostly accurate across the board, but that didn't mean everyone had performed at their absolute best or worst.

Well, he'd continue to observe him, and everyone else, and see where and what he needed to tweak.

The more time he spent around wizards the more he was learning that everything was about adaptability when it came to effectively interacting with them.

Adaptability. That was definitely the name of the game. Everything about this mission was different and while he hated to sound like a broken record, his lack of progress was more and more frustrating daily. Voldemort was running rampant, and, instead of doing something useful, he was spending hours watching people shoot beams of colored light at targets.

He'd been working this case for months now, and there wasn't a thing he had to show for all of it, other than a few new abilities and a horde of skeptics.

Dumbledore seemed content to watch and wait, but that really wasn't one of Justin's personal fortes. And it definitely wasn't his usual style to approaching missions.

But, if there wasn't anything useful to do on the Voldemort front, at very least he could be a good teacher.

He stood up and left his office.

In an office a few rooms over, Madam Umbridge sat, equally discontent with the pacing of her own mission.

The plan had been simple. Take up the Defense Against the Dark Arts position and use that foothold to gain more power.

The plan was workable, if not perfect, and at the very least, it had been _going _perfectly.

But...obviously that wasn't the case anymore.

She hadn't planned for foreign intervention, namely one obnoxious wunderkind, Justin Law.

Wunderkind was an apt description, though she was loathe to admit it. Everyone knew he'd decimated the practical section of the OWLs and NEWTs. His transfiguration skills were off the charts, literally.

The Ministry still didn't actually know where he had originally studied, or where he came from, for that matter. There'd been a "records-pending" blip under his name since day one that still hadn't been resolved. Whether it was simple bureaucratic failure, or something more underhanded, she didn't know, but, as a result, she didn't really know anything about him.

Of course, that wasn't entirely accurate, she knew that she didn't like him. He wrapped a layer of courtesy around himself like armor, but she knew that an insolent, under-qualified, _teenager_ lurked underneath. And, while she realized that the two of them were actually very similar in that regard, hiding their true feelings behind a veneer of niceties, it didn't mean she had to appreciate the turnabout.

The rest of the staff hadn't seemed overly fond of him either when she'd first started, but they'd rallied behind him almost instantly once she'd begun to openly criticize him.

Which served to reveal another problem with her current position. Had she been a teacher, she would have been one of them rather than a complete outsider. As things stood, she was less a staff member and more a Ministry interloper and they were quick to stand with each other, against her, as a result.

The only way to solve that problem though was socializing rather than stewing. There had to be a few staff members that weren't sycophantically devoted to Dumbledore's cause. It would make her job much easier if she could acquire a few allies.

She stood up and exited her office.

Umbridge wasn't immediately waved over when she entered the staff room but the teacher she approached (Professor Sprout, if she remembered correctly) was good hearted enough to make room for her at the small table she was sitting at.

The pink-clad auditor looked around as she sat, brow furrowed as more of her surroundings became visible.

"What's-"

"-going on?" Sprout said, finishing the question for her, gesturing around the room as she did so.

Umbridge took another look around the room and nodded.

The room's furniture, mainly a variety of eclectically sized tables and bookshelves, had all been pushed away from the center and as close to the walls as possible. In the middle of the chaos was a large, raised platform, which, judging by it's marbled appearance, had been transfigured from the stone floor.

Of all things, it looked like, "a dueling platform?" she asked.

Sprout nodded. "It is. Professor Law was asking Professor Flitwick about formal dueling and our charms master decided it'd be easier to demonstrate than explain."

She smiled at the auditor, natural friendliness trumping the slight suspicion she had towards the other staff member, and continued. "We," she made a motion towards the growing crowd of Professors. "Are all a little more interested than is strictly professional. Professor Flitwick's an old favorite in the dueling crowd, you see and Professor Law is, well, Professor Law."

"They're going to duel?" Umbridge asked, eyebrows raising high. "How archaic!"

Sprout's expression grew slightly guarded. "Well, it's only a practice match at most, and I'm sure Filius will go easy on Professor Law."

"Hmm, yes. He is only a child, I suppose," Umbridge replied, skepticism of the duel itself losing out to her dislike of the Defense professor.

"He's of age," Professor Mcgonagall said, taking a seat at their table. "And the Headmaster wouldn't have hired him if he wasn't qualified."

Sprout shot the older professor an appreciative look, glad that her peers hadn't abandoned her to the wolf in their midst.

"Of course, of course," Umbridge said, smiling largely, but with a touch of insincerity, at their new table-mate. "Still, he's awfully young and it's not as though he had much competition."

"True. I do believe that you were the only other applicant."

The line was delivered conversationally, but the auditor wasn't so dense as to not recognize the subtle insult and the three woman lapsed into a, not tense, but also not entirely comfortable silence as they turned their attentions towards the pair of professors.

Flitwick and Law had both walked onto the platform and were striding towards each other. They met in the middle and Flitwick smiled at the younger teacher.

"There are several variants to choose from when officially starting a duel. The most common is up," he held his wand vertically in front of his face. "Down," it slashed back to his side. "Followed by a short bow."

The older professor gave the younger a quick shallow one.

Justin nodded, repeating the motions and fluidly falling into a deep bow with a casual grace that spoke of long practice with the motion.

"Good, Professor," Flitwick said as Justin straightened up. "After that, we turn so our backs face each other and then we walk ten paces to the opposite sides of the platform."

Justin nodded again.

"If you don't mind, and for safety's sake, we'll stick to spells that focus on disarming and stunning. Maybe a few low level hexes and curses but, with discretion please. I'd prefer for us to avoid the hospital wing today."

"Maybe you should have thought of that before deciding to do something so dangerous, Filius!" Madam Pomphrey chastised.

The other teachers laughed as Flitwick smiled ruefully.

"We'll be fine Poppy, it's all in good fun."

The medi-witch huffed. "Be careful, then. I don't want my first real interaction with our newest Professor to be scraping him off the floor."

'_So little faith in my abilities,'_ Justin mused. Of course, it might not be entirely unfounded. This was his first "magic-only" fight. He didn't really know what to expect.

(Although he would readily admit that he was a little skeptical that anything involving standing still and shooting light at people could be called a fight.)

"I'm sure we'll be fine," Flitwick replied. "Anyways, Professor Law, we go until someone is disarmed, stunned, or falls off the platform."

"Sounds reasonable," Justin said.

The two repeated the motions that marked the beginning of their duel. Flitwick waved his wand around with sharp flourishes that radiated experience. The younger dueler followed him with simpler motions and an ease of movement that hid how new the whole thing was to him. They both bowed, Justin significantly lower out of habit, before pivoting on their heels and walking to opposite ends of the stage.

Flitwick raised his wand, pointing it at his opponent in a clear ready stance. Justin brought his cross up for a few seconds, head inclined over it, before allowing it to drop. The position he adopted afterwards, while appropriate for combat, was much less rigid than Flitwick's more traditional form.

"If you would do the honors, Professor Mcgonagall?" Flitwick said.

"Of course," she paused. "Ready? Begin!"

"Stupefy!"

Justin brought his wand up and a transparent barrier caught the spell. Several more spells shot at his shield and the sound of them reverberated throughout the room as the energy in front of him rippled.

On the defensive already? His opponent was definitely faster on the draw then him.

And he quickly realized that was extremely important in a Wizard's Duel. The long platform meant that there wasn't much room to move or dodge, which forced him to rely completely on magic to avoid getting hit by his opponent.

"Filius has him already," Mcgonagall said to the table. "His speciality is speed casting. Professor Law's going to be trapped behind that Protego for the rest of the match."

"It's a pretty impressive shield though," Sprout said, looking impressed. "It's taking a beating. I don't think he's recast it at all."

Most Shield Charms could defend against one or two solid hits. A really good one could take five to ten.

Professor Law's had withstood at least twenty, and showed no signs of deteriorating.

It was a testament to both dueler's ability - the fact that Filius could cast that fast, and that Law could defend against the onslaught, were both equally impressive feats.

Five more spells hit the defense professor's shield in rapid succession. He narrowed his eyes and watched closely as a few more made contact.

They were definitely fast. If he took down his shield charm to try and retaliate with his own magic he'd get hit long before any spell of his would reach Flitwick. On the other hand, they were also very uniform. Almost all of them hit the same few spots on his barrier. Probably a good strategy for breaking down someone's defenses, but it gave him an idea.

"That shield is amazing!" Sprout said. "It's not even cracked."

"That shield just went down," Umbridge said smugly. "I guess he's forfeiting."

"What?!" Sprout said.

It was true. The defense teacher's shield had gone down, but, in the same motion, he had too, body folding neatly in half at the waist as several spells flew overhead. As soon as they passed over him, he was flipping to balance on his hands, one reaching out to cast three spells, as the other held him up. Then he was back on his feet before any of them could blink, shield charm back in place to block the next wave of Flitwick's magic.

Across the dueling platform, Flitwick managed to pull his own Protego up in time but, much to his, and the rest of the room's shock, the trio of spells slipped underneath it, knocking him over, out and sending his wand flying across the room.

The sound his body made as it hit the floor was small, but the silence that followed after made the noise all the more deafening.

Justin held his wand up for a few more seconds, before relaxing his position and allowing his shield to flicker out of existence.

"Winner-" Mcgonagall croaked, coughed once to clear her throat, and a little louder, "Ah, that is, Winner, Professor Law."

The Professor nodded at her then walked to Flitwick. An as unvocalized as ever wand wave had him enneverated and looking around. Another summoned the charms professor's wand back to him.

The room was quiet for a few seconds, and then - "That was amazing, Professor!" Flitwick said. "Truly amazing! I've never seen anyone do a _**backflip**_ during a duel before!"

Justin smiled embarrassedly. "Well, I'd noticed during some of my lessons that most people don't cast a full body shield when using the Protego charm, they tend to instinctively focus it more around the head and torso to conserve energy. I wasn't sure you'd do the same, but I figured my best chance of slipping something past your defenses would be to aim at your feet."

"Amazing! I've never noticed that before, and I've been doing this for years. Of course, I'm nowhere near that impressive of an athlete. I highly doubt I could hold myself in a handstand with one hand and cast a spell with the other just so it'd be low enough to the ground to hit someone's feet of all things!"

"You were pretty impressive yourself. There's no way I could have beaten you using only magic."

"Part of being a good duelist is utilizing all the skills you have. After all, it doesn't matter how you won, all that matters is that you did," Flitwick paused for a moment and then his eyes widened comically. "I-lost. Didn't I? I lost a duel."

The rest of the staff chuckled.

"Looks likes your streak's been broken by a teenager," Sprout said, with a large, teasing grin.

"Oh, thank the good earth, it finally happened," Professor Vector, the arithmancy Professor said.

"Sir High-Horse has been toppled," Hooch, replied, agreeing and smiling with the other staff members.

A few of the teachers got up and shook Justin's hand, who was growing more and more bemused.

"We are ever indebted to you Professor," Sprout said, giving his hand a vigourous pump. "All he ever goes on about is his dueling streak," she adopted a sarcastic, high-pitch squeak. "'I was quite the dueler back in the day. Why, I've gone 212 duels and never lost a single one. I am so amazing. Blah, blah, blah.'"

The staff room was filled with laughter for the second time. Flitwick grumbled under his breath, but it was good natured. It was obvious that most of the people in the room were completely comfortable bantering with each other.

There was a palpable divide between Umbridge, Justin and their colleagues, who had all worked together for years and were obvious friends - and both of them noticed it.

The staff, on the other hand, viewed it a little differently.

Justin was slowly being pulled into their circle. Umbridge was further than ever.

* * *

**Chapter Ten:**

"_Mister _Law," she said. "You are a child. Maybe a very clever one. Maybe even a very talented one. But still, a _child_ and you should show your betters some respect. I have worked in this industry almost as long as you've been alive. Do not presume to think yourself more educated in the subject than I."

His eyes were narrowed, nearly to slits. "In what subject? Defense Against the Dark Arts? I apologize, Madame, but I don't think, I know, that I am more qualified in the subject than you."

The entire room, which had already been somewhat muted, went entirely silent. Anyone who hadn't already been watching the exchange between the two found themselves turning to do so.

"Do you know who I am?" Justin said. "I'm the leader of the European Branch of the DWMA, a school dedicated to combat. I've studied defense, exclusively, almost my entire life."

There was something just a tad menacing about the teenager's aura. It was the angriest any of them had ever seen him. Even Umbridge had taken a step back.

Justin noticed, and paused. "I," he stood up. "I apologize. Forget I said anything," he picked up his pile of papers and turned to leave the room. "I'll take your advice into consideration, _Madam_."

"See-" Madame Umbridge croaked, paused, then cleared her throat to remove any residual nerves. "See that you do."

* * *

"It could have been worse," Lee said. "At least he spelled us all back to normal before we left."

"Are you joking?" Fred asked. "The only redeemable part of that lesson was watching everyone turn pastel."

George laughed. "Do you think Professor Law will teach us how to do a triple backflip?"

"Or, you know, jump five meters in the air and cast three spells at once?" Fred replied.

"Or even how to manipulate people into feeling like it's socially acceptable for him to turn them horrible colors? That was masterfully done on his part. I bet he was secretly laughing at us the whole time," George said.

"I really wanted that homework pass," Fred moaned. "And we depleted half our stock trying to tag him with something."

"More than half," George said, reaching into one of his magically expanded pockets and pulling out a few pieces of fleshy looking string. "All I have left are a few extendable ears."

"What? Seriously?" Lee asked.

"Not even Peruvian Dark Powder fazed him! And that stuff is expensive," George replied, grumbling under his breath. He continued, slightly louder, "it's like he has eyes-"

"-with night vision-"

"-in the back of his head," George finished.

Lee laughed. "You know, I thought he was really young, but I don't think it's possible for someone in their early twenties to be that good."

"How so?" Fred asked.

"Well, I mean, it's not like he took out a room of first years. We're about as close to full-fledged wizards as it gets and he managed to beat all of us, without getting hit once. I think even most of our usual professors wouldn't be able to do that."

"Maybe he's another Flamel," Fred laughed.

"Ha, that wouldn't even surprise me at this point," Jordan replied.

"You know, the whole exercise was about defending ourselves," George said, shifting the topic of conversation.

"Obviously Forge, I had no idea you were such a genius," Fred said.

"I'm just thinking that maybe we should make sure the good Professor is practicing what he preaches."

"Oh, a religious joke, I approve. Of it, _and_ your train of thought. I was just thinking that Professor Law's wardrobe is a bit gloomy."

"I think he needs a bit of, oh, I don't know, maybe, 'neon rainbow' in his life."

"Forge, I apologize, the sarcasm was unnecessary. You really are a genius."

* * *

**Chapter Eleven:**

"A," Malfoy continued. "Worthy mentality. One I, myself, sympathize with. I did not realize such institutions existed."

"We don't like to advertise ourselves," Italian subordinate said. "

* * *

The store was obviously the result of an expansion charm and the walls rose high into the air, lined with a variety of brass and string instruments. The floor held larger instruments, mainly percussion, but there was also a few double basses and things of that nature. The displays were constantly rearranging themselves though. Instruments floated through the air and the floor displays shifted every few seconds. A flashy bit of magic to be sure, but it made it hard to actually shop for things. So, typical impracticality via the existence of magic. It was nothing we wasn't learning to adjust to.

"Hello, sir," one of the employees, a flamboyantly dressed young man, said, walking towards the Defense Professor. "Can I help you find anything?"

Justin shook his head, "No, just looking. Thank you."

Just looking, except, they had a cello display. No. Mission first. On the other hand, his cover would look more believable if he actually did some shopping.

"Actually," he turned back to the employee. "Do you sell sheet music?"

The employee sniffed. "Sir, this is a _music_ store. Of _course_ we do. It's towards the back of the shop."

Justin nodded and walked towards the back.

How exciting, it hadn't even occurred to him that he was in a new world full of new music.

* * *

Or, at least, they would have been if they weren't wandering around, speaking foreign at everyone.

"_Excuse me, pretty lady," _the twenty-eight year old, Italian meister said, in his native language.

The aforementioned pretty lady looked somewhat irritated as the blond man grabbed her hand. "_I said, excuse me! _Excuse me!"

* * *

In addition to their disinterest in him, he'd also made some effort to avoid them. As far as their two subjects went, he had absolutely zero knowledge. So declining interaction with the two, and others whose subjects he didn't fully understand, was somewhat obligatory.

Out of necessity and serious time restraints, the DWMA's learning style (gaining complete proficiency with specialized skills, rather than emphasizing large of amounts of generalized knowledge, like Hogwarts did) was something he'd carried over into his study of magic. He'd focused entirely on the magics that he felt were most useful for his mission and pretty much ignored everything else. (The only exception being Transfiguration. He transformed between two different forms on a regular basis, the transformation of other things was, _fascinating, _and came incredibly easy to him. So, he'd studied it out of pure curiosity and personal interest, rather than because of mission parameters.)

Either way, it meant that, while his Defense skills were stellar, he doubted he'd be able to pass even something like a first year Potions test. He had a couple of O's to his name, courtesy of the few subjects he'd studied and tested on, but, everything else magic, was somewhat foreign to him. And, to an extent, even magical theory was something he still didn't have a complete grasp on. He fully realized that his, less than perfect, written scores on the OWLS and NEWTS had been augmented by, more than perfect, practical ones.

In general, though, while he could hide a lack of knowledge from less knowledged people, avoiding experts in subjects he had zero background in, was somewhat helpful for maintaining his cover. Wizards were expected to know about things like Astronomy, and, right now, that's what people believed him to be.

Obviously avoiding his fellow Professors wouldn't always be possible, and typical, polite, neutrality painted his face. He wasn't doing anything to encourage conversation, but he wasn't closed off enough to discourage it, should they choose to pursue. If worse came to worse, he'd just have to direct conversation elsewhere.

He looked in the mirror and allowed himself a single huff of irritation before donning a more neutral expression. Clothes. They hadn't been an issue in years and now he had to spend a portion of his morning, everyday, thinking about them.

And it's not like the wasted effort did anything for him, he thought, as he picked up his briefcase, left the room and walked towards the entrance at the front of the school. Frankly, he still missed his old clothes.

Oh well.

* * *

A sudden flash of blue fire had Justin dropping his bagel and shoving himself and his chair back. Conversation in the Great Hall came to a halt as he caught his foot on the bottom edge of the table, bringing his abrupt fall to a stop.

For a few seconds, he and the chair hovered at a nearly hundred and eighty degree angle with the table, and then he pulled it, and himself, back to the ground, with a quick jerk.

The teachers nearest to Justin, Flitwick and Sinistra had both startled to their feet and had their wands pointed at the blue orb. Dumbledore too had sprung to attention and was walking towards the Death Scythe.

"Are you-"

"Professor Law-

"Okay?"

"What was tha-"

"It's alright," Justin said, silencing the swarm of concern.

He looked at the fire, which had formed into a blue orb, floating over the pile of ash that had once been breakfast. His first urge was an irritated look, but, as usual, he schooled his features into something a bit more neutral.

"Apologies, it's not dangerous," _anymore, _went unspoken in his mind.

* * *

A few teachers were already on their feet and rushing over.

"Are you alright, Professor Law?" Dumbledore said, walking towards the Death Scythe with his wand in hand.

Justin nodded and looked at the orb of blue flames floating over his plate. It was already dissipating, but most of his food had been reduced to ash in the meantime. "Yes, I apologize. There's no need to worry."

The fire evaporated in a cloud of smoke and dropped a letter onto the pile of soot masquerading as breakfast.

A flash of blue flame drew the attention of the majority of the Great Hall. Justin looked at his disintegrated bagel with distaste.

He recognized that particular form of message sending, and remembered expliciting telling the meister/weapon pair responsible to not use it.

* * *

It was the calm before the storm.

His classes were running smoothly. Umbridge's lingering threat of inspection at the beginning of November was still over a week away. If he wanted the cover of students on his trip to Hogsmeade he had twice that amount of time to wait, and any other potential Horcrux hunting was delayed by his inability to transfer the one he already had to his allies, or Dumbledore's intel, which didn't seem to be coming any quicker than his own.

And, _A Comprehensive Study of the Magical Society of England (1707; The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland) In Modern Times VOL XXXIII: 1875-1877, _was quite possibly the least engaging book of the _entire_ set. Considering the fact that the last volume had been laced with a lethargy curse and notice-me-not charm, that was saying something.

Justin's fingers tapped a steady rhythm on the spine of the book, one that was mirrored by his feet and the hand his face was resting on. His usual precise posture was replaced with slumped shoulders and, more often than not, he found himself staring into space instead of doing anything productive.

* * *

**Chapter Twelve:**

"Too true," Flitwick replied.

"Work ethic?" Justin said, shaking his head. "I'd be happy just getting my Friday class to pay attention."

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen, Part One:**

"We'll start with the stunning charm-"

"-Professor Law-"

"-and move into-"

"-hem, hem-"

"-other variations-"

"-Professor Law!"

Her voice was incredibly irritating. Even their famously stoic professor looked annoyed.

This was going to be interesting.

Professor Law turned to address her. "Yes, Madame Umbridge?"

"Professor Law, you can't be serious. This lesson is _completely _inappropriate."

_Very_ interesting.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," he replied. "And I'd be happy to discuss your concerns later, but right now-"

"-Professor Law, after hearing what you're planning on covering, I'm not comfortable allowing this lesson to progress."

* * *

The other teachers around campus weren't necessarily casual with their students, but they weren't usually one hundred percent business either.

* * *

Perhaps it was time to figure out if anything could come out of this.

"Professor Law, let's be completely candid with each other. I can barely tolerate you."

He looked up this time, expression, closed off, but serious. He was obviously bright enough to realize the conversation was entering a more serious bent.

"And, I'm assuming you feel the same way about me."

He said nothing, which was enough of an answer in its own right.

"That said, continuing this vein of honesty, I do believe we could be of some use to each other. I'm sure there's something you want, and, you'll find, that people with my sort of connections are good at getting the things their friends want."

"Not interested."

Her false grin disappeared. "Mister Law-"

"Madame, I am working-"

"Well, it'll just have to wait, Professor. I am speaking to you."

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen, Part 2:**

for him in _hel-_she lowered her wand and took a deep breath to calm herself.

No, getting angry wasn't going to help anything.

It was time to take a step back and actually think. Not taking some time to actually consider her situation, was exactly why she was in this mess, in the first place.

She blew up another row of plates anyways.

* * *

"Lying?" Harry said. "You're crazy, if you don't think Voldemort isn't out there looking to hurt-"

"-I said, I don't approve of _lying_, Mister Potter."

"Well I don't approve of _idiots_. You can't honestly think-"

"_Excuse me_, Mister Potter. That is _not _how you speak to your betters."

"-my betters!-"

"-and I will not tolerate you spewing your attention-seeking _lies _in this institution."

* * *

Professor Law was a good teacher, maybe even a great one, but he wasn't the best lecturer. He didn't necessarily come off as nervous, or even inexperienced, there was just some general air of...well, something. Hermione wasn't quite sure how to describe it. More than anything, he just never seemed a hundred percent comfortable. Plus, his voice tended to fluctuate quite a bit. Most of the time he was entirely fine but, occasionally, his volume would dramatically increase for no apparent reason. Not quite yelling, but also a bit too loud to be considered talking. And then he'd correct himself and carry on as if nothing had happened.

It was almost like he was used to having to shout, and had to make a legitimate effort not to do so. Either way, it definitely made her wonder what he'd done prior to teaching. (If anything. The professor was only _eighteen _after all.)

Without fail though, he always managed to overcome less-than-stellar public speaking skills with pure content. His lessons were fascinating, and entirely application based. He wasn't necessarily teaching them advanced magicks, he was teaching them how to effectively use the ones they already knew.

Ironically, if the idea had been brought up to her earlier, she probably wouldn't have been particularly enthused. She liked magic theory, she enjoyed studying it and she firmly believed that a strong theoretical foundation was essential to becoming a truly proficient witch or wizard.

However, there was something entirely exhilarating about learning something completely new too. The way Professor Law taught, the way Professor Law _thought, _was completely different from how every other witch, or wizard she had ever encountered did.

For example-

"-expelliarmus, Professor," Harry said, from his place at her side. "If I had to pick."

"The disarming charm?" Professor Law said, nodding. "Not a bad choice if you don't want to harm your target. There are some drawbacks though. Can any of you think of any?"

One of her fellow Gryffindors raised their hand. "The person could still attack you, even if they don't have their wand."

Professor Law nodded. "What else?"

That seemed like the most obvious one. Hermione wracked her mind for an answer.

"How about this then," Professor Law continued. "In a duel, who do you think would cast first? Someone who has to say 'expelliarmus' or someone who has to say 'stupefy'? Since both are techniques that would severely limit one's ability to retaliate, the only thing that matters is who hits-"

"This might be somewhat hypocritical, considering my preferred fighting style."

See, it was little lines like that. How many people had a 'preferred fighting style'?

"But, the biggest downside I see to it, is its length."

Her brow furrowed and she would have raised her hand if he hadn't continued.

"Expelliarmus, is a long word. A couple seconds is the difference between you hitting your opponent, or your opponent hitting you. If someone has to incant 'Expelliarmus' versus, say, 'Crucio', who do you think is going to cast first?"

* * *

Professor Law was one of the teachers Harry actively enjoyed listening to. Possibly because his lessons were just so...different.

* * *

"Do any of you know what this is?" he asked, holding up an L-shaped piece of black metal.

Hermione raised her hand. "It's a gun, sir."

* * *

Umbridge is quite a

long name for this quick Haiku

screw her point of view

(and Malfoy's too)

* * *

**Chapter 14:**

"Can you completely guarantee that?" Justin said. "Voldemort _cannot_ be allowed to have even the slightest suspicion that people are hunting for his horcruxes. The last thing we want is for him to try moving them. The more he comes in contact with them, the higher the chance is that he'll realize he's underutilizing them. Each one is a pocket of stored energy. If he were to absorb and use that energy-"

"It'd be catastrophic," Dumbledore said.

Even more so than the Headmaster truly realized. Magic was _dangerous_. More than most witches and wizards understood. It was just so versatile compared to any other ability he'd ever encountered. They could destroy a soul and clean a room with nothing more than a piece of wood and a word.

The only limit on it was personal creativity and the soul of its user. Most of them simply weren't strong enough cause too much trouble. However, if Voldemort ever realized the upgrade in power his Horcruxes could give him...well, they'd be faced with an enemy strong enough to make magic into an actual threat. Magic combined with a huge amount of power would give the caster an almost unlimited number of ways to take the DWMA out. And, as powerful as Lord Death and the DWMA were, coming up with ways to counter an unlimited number of possible threats would be nearly impossible.

"Very much so," Justin said. "There's a reason Lord Death mobilized a Death Scythe, even though it's somewhat unprecedented for one of us to go undercover this long. He's taking this threat very seriously, and I'm sure you are too. "

* * *

Justin flicked his wand over his music player. A sharp puff of pungent, golden smoke filled the room but, the device, (sleek and black, with a graphic of Death's stylized mask on the back) and, more importantly, his earphones, stayed quiet.

He dispelled the smoke with a heavy sigh, and rubbed his temples, as a pounding staccato continued to wreak havoc behind his eyes.

He'd tried everything, sneaking it past the wards, casting a counter-ward to protect it from them, changing the device to feed off ambient magic in the area, etc., etc.. However, the fact of the matter was, whomever had cast the ward around the school, was simply a better wizard than him. Tricking Hogwart's wards into letting something in, was beyond his ability range. (If he wanted to do it subtly, at least. It was tempting to just rip a hole in them with his Saint Cross Knife.)

Really though, if things would just _quiet down_, most of his problems would be solved.

But, that was somewhat unfair. His headache wasn't a result of Hogwarts being any louder than normal. He just hadn't slept well the night before, which was crippling his, already some strained, attempts to control his soul percept

The random, late night flashes of Horcrux energy were becoming more and more frequent. And they were doing an excellent job of stifling his ability to sleep. He'd spent more than a few late nights chasing down bursts of phantom energy.

The fact that he hadn't already found it was frustrating. If he had any ability, at all, with his soul percept, that problem could have been solved months ago. As it stood though, he was planning on waiting. With luck, the winter break would create a slightly more peaceful atmosphere. He was hoping the diminished amount of people would make it easier to more actively search out the corrupted soul of Voldemort's victim, without suffering sensory overload.

He was starting to think that he was even more excited about the winter break than his students. Once it started, most of the noise would follow the students home, and he'd be able to get some _actual_ work done. Because, while teaching was...interesting...it ultimately wasn't his real reason for entering the wizarding world.

For all his months of being on assignment, his actual, tangible progress was very low. He hadn't found a single Horcrux, and Voldemort wasn't any closer to execution then he'd been over the summer. In fact, the Death Scythe hadn't ever even seen the man.

And, while the whole situation was somewhat expected, (there was a reason for creating a cover for himself that'd allow him to stick around the magical communities for an extended period of time) it was still...grating.

He was starting to think that the random, late night, flashes of Horcrux energy were figments of his imagination. The fact that it constantly appeared and disappeared, and only at night, was bizarre.

Maybe his exposure to the first one had rattled him more than he'd thought. If he was actively dreaming about it, to the point of losing sleep, that was a problem. A big one. But, it also didn't _fit_. His mastery over his perception wasn't anything to brag about, quite the opposite really, but he'd never flat out _hallucinated_ as a result of it.

* * *

**Chapter 15:**

Professor Law nodded, and turned back to his own work. Harry paused, and looked at him contemplatively.

"Professor, I-" he paused.

Law paused, and looked back up from his stack of papers.

"Well, yesterday," Harry continued. "Yesterday, Madame Umbridge tried to have me banned from Quidditch for life. I don't know what would have happened if Headmaster Dumbledore hadn't stepped in."

Quidditch, was? Right, the sport witches and wizards played on broomsticks. He'd been invited to the next Ravenclaw vs Hufflepuff game by Professor's Flitwick and Sprout respectively. He'd lacked a polite reason to refuse (they'd prefaced the invitation with 'Do you have any plans for the weekend?' and he'd foolishly said no) so he was actually going, though he'd stated explicitly that he'd only do so as an impartial observer, even though both wanted him to cheer for their team.

Strange. He didn't really understand it, or why his student was bringing it up. But, he politely listened on as Mister Potter continued.

"I, guess, well, me and my friends were talking about it, and it just made me realize how miserable that woman could make my life is she was given the right opportunity. So, I guess I just wanted to say thank you, again. For not letting her, I mean. Just, yeah. Thanks."

* * *

Harry let his hand fall a polite twice on the door.

"Come in, Mister Potter," Professor Law said, from inside the office.

Harry nodded, before remembering the other teenager couldn't see him, and walked in.

Looking around, he realized that the inside of Professor Law's office was fairly spartan. The Professor didn't seem to have added any personal touches to it, other than a set of filing cabinets, (More evidence to Hermione's growing muggleborn theory. But, he supposed it could also be an American thing.) and then the fact that his desk looked about three or four times larger than the usual Hogwarts ones. Though the towering stacks of books and paper almost completely covering it, made it pretty obvious why that was necessary.

"Hello, Professor," Harry said, pausing his inspection of the room.

Professor Law looked up from whatever he was working on, and sent him a quick nod. "Mister Potter, welcome. You're free to work on whatever you like. You can leave around nine thirty or so," he said, gesturing to the clock above his desk, which read eight.

An hour and a half then, definitely not the worst detention he'd served. Harry nodded and took a seat at the edge of his teacher's giant desk.

* * *

Giuliano opened the door to their rented room.

Lukas was sitting on one of the two queen beds, skimming the pile of notes Dumbledore had given them. They had both already read them on several occasions, but reading through them again was better than sitting around doing nothing. Magical hotels, for all the novelty, were actually pretty boring. They didn't even have TVs.

"Appointments in thirty minutes," Giuliano said. "Did Driggs come through for us?"

"_Ja_," Lukas said, focused enough on what he was reading to instinctively slip into his native language, and gesturing to a pile of black cloth on the table.

"_Alright_," Giuliano said, continuing in German, not caring enough to call his partner on it. "_We should probably head out soon then. Is my outfit pretentious enough to represent your illustrious pure-blood family?_" He held his arms out to emphasize the billowing sleeves of the silver robes.

Lukas set the paper down and nodded. "_Fine, yes. Very professional._"

"_You'd know better than me,_" Giuliano shrugged. "_Wizarding fashion is too impractical for my tastes. I can barely move in this._" Heavy silver fabric, long sleeves, a high collar; the whole ensemble was stifling. It'd be almost impossible to fight in. But, best case scenario, he'd would need to. (Which was the only reason his partner had been able to talk him into it.)

"_You're an account manager_," Lukas said. "_You don't need to do much moving._"

Giuliano snorted. "_Now you're just rubbing it in. You always get to do the fun parts of our assignments._ _Speaking of which,_" he looked to the clock on the wall. "It's time to start speaking in English. We need to head out."

Lukas nodded and walked over to the table. He picked up the package and put it in one of his pockets, before transforming into his weapon form, a black rifle with a red scope. Giuliano caught him before he hit the floor, and holstered him on his back.

"Remember, your target is the Cup of Hufflepuff," Giuliano said, having scoped it out already with Bullseye. The fact that he could pick the Horcrux out with his soul percept meant he and Lukas could spy on it. In fact, if their soul wavelengths were more powerful, they'd probably be able to take it out without even entering the bank. On the other hand, since stealth was the name of the game when it came to hunting the fragments of Voldemort's soul, it was probably better to avoid shooting randomly into the vaults anyways. The last thing they wanted to do was alert the entire wizarding world to their mission.

"I don't know where it is specifically, other than 'down'. But, once we're in the bank, I'll try to get a clearer picture for you. Otherwise, you'll just have to do some legwork."

"Alright," Lukas replied, reflection appearing on the gun for just a second.

"And no talking," Giulian snarked. "Keep quiet and look inanimate."

* * *

Everything about Gringotts, from the imposing structure, to the blatant message cautioning against it, was designed to dissuade thieves. However, it didn't make walking through the front door any harder than normal, and the two meandered in and headed towards one of the tellers without any difficulty.

"Hello," Giuliano said, addressing the goblin, a bald, diminutive creature, with sharp claws and teeth. "I'm here for an appointment."

"Name?" it rasped, not bothering to make eye contact. The goblin seemed far more interested in the pile of red stones he was inspecting, rather than the humans bothering him.

"Schmidt," Giuliano replied "Julian Schmidt."

The goblin nodded, still not looking up from the jewels. "Of course, Mr. Schmidt, on behalf of the House of Castell?" (Lukas's real last name. Unlike Giuliano, who'd never bothered with a fake name, Lukas came from a fairly influential family and had chosen to hide that fact when he'd joined the Academy.)

"Correct," he said. "At one."

"I'll inform Kritsmirk. Follow me," the goblin hopped off his pedestal and gestured for Giuliano to follow.

The goblin was very abrupt, but Lukas had told him to expect that. Not necessarily the best customer service he'd seen, but apparently an 'impenetrable' security system made up for it, in the eyes of Britain's magical society.

And, in the eyes of his 'client' too.

The plan was simple. Giuliano was masquerading as an account manager of the Castell family, coming to Gringotts in order to negotiate the possibility of them moving a large portion of their assets to the bank. According to his and Lukas's fabricated backstory, a recent scare at their current bank had made them anxious to transfer at least some of their considerable wealth to a new, more secure, facility. The hope then, was that since security was the biggest appeal to his 'client', the goblins would be willing to give him at least a partial tour of the facility. The deeper he was allowed in Gringotts, the more accurately he'd be able to pinpoint the location of the Horcrux. From there, it was a simple of matter of 'accidentally' leaving Lukas somewhere, and distracting the goblins long enough to let him poke around in the vaults until he found what they were looking for.

It wasn't necessarily the most bullet- proof plan they'd ever come up with, in fact there was an infinite amount of things that could go wrong. There was an extremely high amount of 'winging it' involved, and that grated on both of them. However, while stealth was their number one priority when it came to horcrux hunting, being quick was a pretty close second.

With luck, considering that the appeal of Gringotts to his 'client' was the boost in security, he hoped the goblins would be willing to give him some sort of tour, showcasing that security. The deeper into Gringotts he went, and the closer he got to the Horcrux, the easier it would be to figure out exactly where it was. From there, it was a matter of 'accidentally' leaving Lukas somewhere and distracting the goblins long enough to let his partner poke around in the vaults until he found what they were looking for.

Not necessarily the most bullet proof plan they'd come up with, and that grated a bit on both of them. However, even though 'winging it' wasn't really their preferred approach to missions, the high profile nature of this one meant that being quick was just as important as being careful.

* * *

"Mr. Schmidt?"

"Welcome, Mr-?" the goblin said.

"Schmidt," Giuliano said, with a purposefully heavy German accent. "Julian Schmidt, on behalf of the House of Castell," Lukas's actual last name. Unlike Giuliano, who'd never bothered with a stage name, Lukas came from a fairly influential family, and had chosen to hide that when he'd joined the Academy.

"I am Kritsmirk," the goblin replied.

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen:**

Justin folded his arms. "We disagree here, Headmaster. I don't understand though, if Potter is your 'fated'," and there was an obvious touch of disbelief in that statement, "agent, then why is he so undertrained?"

"It's not as if I was expecting Voldemort to return so soon, if ever," Dumbledore replied. "I wanted Harry to have as normal a childhood as possible. I never planned to make him into a soldier-"

"-You just expect him to die as one?" Justin said. "Forget the prophecy. I'll kill Voldemort myself."

Dumbledore's own expression furrowed, mirroring the other teacher's uncertainty.

"Professor Law...were you actually sent here to defeat Voldemort yourself?" he asked.

"What?" Justin replied. "Of course. Why else would I have come?"

"To combine intel...to weaken him as much as possible-"

"-I told you, when I got here, that he needed to be put down," Justin replied.

* * *

**Chapter 17:**

"With things far greater than one resurrected 'Dark Lord'," Justin said, allowing some of his habitual snark to sneak into a conversation that should have been less tense.

Witches and wizards seemed determined to push his buttons

Witches and wizards seemed to determined to shake his calm. Unlike Hogwarts though, there wasn't a Ministry spy or the children of Death Eaters to eavesdrop at Grimmauld Place.

His eyes narrowed.

It probably wasn't the wisest decision he'd ever made, but he could afford to give out more information than he would be willing to at Hogwarts. Maybe it'd get at least Dumbledore to take him a bit more seriously.

"I'm a member of the DWMA," Justin replied. "Our members are expected to _actively_ fight against our enemies from the moment we enter the Academy. I've participated in one on one duels, minor skirmishes, and full out _war-zones _from as early as twelve years old. Age doesn't matter, only _ability_."

Smug superiority immediately washed itself off of Snape's face, only to be replaced by a flash of stunned disgust, followed by skepticism. Which seemed to be the mood of the entire room. Everyone seemed to either not believe him, or be completely appalled by what he had said.

Interesting.

Molly looked livid. "That's _not_ something you should joke about, young man."

"Your leader can confirm that I'm telling the truth," Justin replied, gesturing towards Dumbledore.

"But...that's _barbaric_!" Molly said. "You send children off to war! To die? What do your parents think?"

"My parents are dead. And frankly if Lor- the DWMA hadn't found me, I would be too. I'm living on borrowed time as it is. Dying in its service is something I hope for, not fear."

* * *

"I'm a member of the DWMA," Justin replied. "Our members are expected to _actively_ fight against our enemies from the moment we enter the Academy. I've participated in one on one duels, minor skirmishes, and full out _war-zones _from as early as twelve years old. Age doesn't matter, only _ability_."

To prove it, he pulled the collar of his shawl down towards his torso to show off thick, ropey scars lining his neck and trailing past the fabric he was holding away.

It was like a vacuum had sucked all the noise out of the air, and the stunned silence reverberated throughout the room.

* * *

Justin frowned. The DWMA was hardly a beacon of order and discipline. Especially when he'd been a newly ascended, thirteen year old Death Scythe, trying to lead people who had ten, twenty, thirty times the amount of experience he did, he'd been challenged quite a bit.

But, never in public, and definitely not in front of a newcomer.

Justin frowned. His own division was filled with a wide collection of diverse individuals, and some of them had _interesting_ responses to some of his orders. However, even if they did disagree, no one would challenge him in public, and definitely not in front of a newcomer. Then again, the DWMA was a military organization, and the Order was nothing more than a group of admirable civilians with a stronger sense of duty than most. He couldn't fault them too much, but the lack of professionalism still grated just a bit. The DWMA was hardly a beacon of order and discipline as a whole, but his immediate team, mostly branch leaders, and a few partnerships with specific talents, definitely was.

This group...was the opposite. It was going to take some adjusting. He didn't have too much day to day dealings with the lower ranked members of his division. Most of his meetings were conducted with the different leaders spread throughout Europe, people more on par with Dumbledore rather than the red haired woman challenging him.

They probably all needed a raise. His mission at Hogwarts was rapidly increasing his empathy for them. Knowing the Academy, the things his subordinates had to deal with, when dealing with _their_ subordinates was probably a thousand times more obnoxious than anything the Order of the Phoenix could come up with.

"-prepared," Dumbledore finished.

Justin missed the first half of what he'd said. Too many people were talking, and without any audio clues, it wasn't always possible to know who to direct his attention towards so he could read their lips. He probably needed to take his headphones out, if he wanted to get the full picture. But, since he could actually use them for the first time in six or so months, that wasn't going to happen.

"Professor Law?" Molly hmphed. "He doesn't look any older than Harry! When did we start recruiting children?"

"Harry's in the middle of things, whether we want him to be or not," Sirius said, speaking up. "I agree with the kid, there's no point in trying to keep him out of the loop anymore."

The group had devolved into full out arguing. He hadn't realized the idea was so controversial. People as young as Potter being actively involved in combat wasn't anything particularly shocking in his line of work, and while Dumbledore seemed bothered by the idea, he hadn't reacted nearly so vehemently either. As a result, the Death Scythe had profoundly underestimated just how offensive even something as simple as letting Potter sit in on a meeting was to this group.

"That's hardly a reason at all, Sirius," she retorted hotly. "If that's really true, then we should be trying to pull him out of the conflict, not encouraging him further into it!"

"He's already there!" Sirius yelled back. "You-Know-Who has targeted him personally how many times now? Do you think he's just going to stop because you think Harry isn't old enough to fight back?"

"Hey, now, that's enough, Sirius," Remus censured. "Don't make things personal. We're all on the same side."

"I think," Dumbledore said, rejoining the conversation. "We should all follow the wise words of Mister Lupin," he turned to look at the Weasley matriarch. "Molly, I understand completely your position and the concerns associated with it. And, I share them myself. However, the world we wish for, and the hard lines we must take when that world does not come to pass, are unfortunately not one and the same," he paused, and sent a firm look at the entirety of the room. "I don't expect you all to agree with me on every decision, but it is my hope that you will respect them, regardless."

Molly pursued her lips, before releasing a final argument. "He's just a _boy_, Headmaster."

* * *

That begged the question then of whether or not he was now obligated to try and soothe some of the tension over. Though, he didn't have any idea how to do that. The meeting was shaping up to be one of those situations that proved just how little he understood the culture at times. A month of research prior to coming to Hogwarts had been a good stepping stone, especially when augmented with another several months of active interaction with the wizarding world, however, he still couldn't consider himself an expert.

* * *

The group had devolved into full out arguing. He couldn't completely follow it, too many people talking all at once, but the gist of it was pretty clear. The minority was in favor of Potter joining in, the most vocal part was against it, and the vast majority didn't seem to have too much of an opinion one way

* * *

"It's your Order I wasn't sure about."

There was an obvious insult in that line, and yet, it was delivered so evenly, he almost had to question whether or not

* * *

"Hm?" Law said, turning to the potion's master. "Did you say something, Professor?"

Oh, he really liked him.

* * *

"Headmaster," Professor Law said, cutting into the conversation.

Professor Dumbledore turned to look at him, and, much to everyone's surprise, the Defense professor slipped into a foreign language.

"_Do you speak Latin, teacher?_" Justin said, slipping into one of the more obscure languages at his disposal.

"_I do,_" Dumbledore replied.

"_Does anyone else in your Order?_"

"_No. As far as I know, I'm the only one in the room._"

"_Good,_" Justin replied. "_It's true that there is a piece of our enemy in the kid,_" he said, purposefully avoiding any specific names.

"_However, there is not a piece of the kid in our enemy. The link doesn't go both ways. The enemy is sending information, but he's not getting any back. You should include the boy in the meeting. There's no risk of the enemy spying on us."_

Dumbledore's eyes tightened. "_Teacher, he is just a boy. There's no need to burden him._"

"_You've already chosen to burden him,_" Justin replied. "_So, let him reap some of the benefits too. Don't just expect him to deal with the consequences._"

Dumbledore shook his head, but held back a sigh for the sake of the members of the Order eavesdropping on their conversation. In actuality, he'd been putting a lot of thought into the conversation he and Justin had had recently about the prophecy. He didn't agree with the boy on everything, but, on some aspects, his employee was correct.

Harry did need more information, if he was going to be successful.

"_You're right._"

Letting him sit in a few Order meetings wasn't going to do the boy any harm, and it might even be of some benefit to him in the future.

"_It's him who has a __right__,_" Justin replied. "_If you want him to fight, then you're not helping him by keeping him in the dark. He needs to be prepared._"

"_I-_You're right," Dumbledore said, slipping back into English. He turned his gaze towards his student. "Harry, dear boy, why don't you stay?"

_What_?

"_What_?" Molly asked, obviously wondering the same, though most likely for different reasons.

"Who's the kid?" Sirius asked, under his breath. He wasn't showing it as visibly as some of the other people in the room, but he was a bit shocked. He didn't think he'd ever seen Dumbledore change his mind so quickly, or _acknowledge _(which wasn't necessarily the right word, but it was the closest he could come up with) anyone like that either.

"I don't know," Remus said, equally quiet.

"That's Professor Law," George, who'd been sitting next to them, along with his twin, whispered.

"Told you he's epic," Fred snarked.

"_That's _Law?" Sirius hissed, looking skeptical. The intimidating, hyper observant, 'epic' teacher was an eighteen year old kid?

"I think it would be for the best," Dumbledore said, addressing Molly. "As Professor Law so graciously reminded me, Harry has a right to be here, perhaps even more so than the rest of us."

"Professor Law?" Molly said, staring more closely at the teen. "You don't look much older than Harry yourself." Not to mention the plethora of comments she had about his wardrobe.

"I'm eighteen," Justin replied, with a polite grin.

This again? His smile felt a little tighter than normal, though that wasn't necessarily noticeable to anyone else in the room.

"_Eighteen_?" she asked, looking scandalized. "You're a teacher?" And very doubtful.

"-And shaping up to be one of the best Hogwarts has ever had," Flitwick said, from his place near the left end of the table. "Professor Law, I am thrilled to see you here."

"Couldn't agree more," Sprout said, who was sitting next to him.

"The pleasure's mine," Justin said, bowing lightly to both of them.

The Charm professor's habit of jumping to his aid always surprised him. But, he certainly appreciated it.

The rest of the room just seemed surprised that the teacher would bother at all. Flitwick was hardly the confrontational type, so that probably meant he was being sincere, not just spouting platitudes.

In that case, it was impressive. It wasn't everyday that Hogwart's senior staff (i.e, some of the best teachers in the world) gave out compliments like that. _Especially_ to eighteen year olds.

"Are you joining the Order then?" Flitwick asked.

"Of course not-" Molly started.

"-Just observing," Justin replied. "For now, at least."

Dumbledore nodded an agreement. "To introduce you all officially," he gestured at the teenager. "This is Professor Justin Law. He's our current Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and Hogwarts has been lucky to have him. I _personally_ asked him to come here, and it took quite a bit of wheedling to get him to agree. So, I hope you'll all be very welcoming."

Really, he didn't want to be there at all. However, Dumbledore had a suspicion that Voldemort's snake was a horcrux. Arthur Weasley's wound was the closest link they had to Nagini, so he had come to Grimmauld Place to take a look at it.

He didn't have too much personal interest in the meeting itself, but Dumbledore had convinced him that it was the least suspicious cover he could use to enter the house. The Death Scythe would have preferred to skip that step entirely, but approaching the man in public wasn't even an option, if he wanted to keep his true opinions on the war quiet. Meeting with the Order of the Phoenix also had a risk of ruining his plans, but it was still better than visiting one of them where anyone could see, and liberally using his soul perception in a place as crowded as a hospital.

And, who knew, maybe he'd actually learn something useful at the meeting. Since he had to listen in anyways, he planned to pay close attention.

* * *

Professor Law had suddenly become one of his favorite people.

Which was definitely an exaggeration, but he did appreciate the fact that the other teen had stood up for him.

There weren't words strong enough to describe just how _relieved_ he felt. Dumbledore was letting him sit in on a meeting. That had to mean that it wasn't..._dangerous_ for him to do so. He wasn't a mole, Voldemort _wasn't _using him like a window, looking in on the Order and all their plans.

Mrs. Weasley looked upset, and the rest of the Order some mixture of curious and confused, however he

* * *

"We're still very grateful," Molly replied. "And, we trust Dumbledore. I'm sure he knows what's best."

Then again, maybe Dumbledore was wise not to trust him. If he could see Voldemort in visions, who's to say Voldemort couldn't see him. The last thing he wanted to be was a mole, some sort of window for Voldemort to look through and see everything the Order was doing.

* * *

The trio and Ginny grinned to themselves, and moved to go past her, when Sirius latched onto Harry's arm.

"Let's talk real quick," the animagus said. "We can go to a different room."

Harry nodded tentatively.

The two of them made their way down a flight of stairs, but split off to one of the sitting rooms on the first floor, once they reached the landing.

* * *

"Now, look here," Molly said. "Maybe Harry being a part of this war is inevitable, and maybe my children really are caught up in something they don't need to be involved in. But, why do we need to bring in a stranger and make them fight it for us? He's just a boy-"

"No," Moody said. "He's not. How long have you been a soldier, Professor Law?"

The room grew silent. Wide eyed stares were traded amongst the members of the Order.

Justin just grinned politely, his response to any and all difficult conversations.

"What makes you think-"

"-it's the way you move, kid. They way you watch us all. You're on guard, it's not hard to figure out the rest."

Justin's smile vanished and his expression grew serious. "I came here for a purpose, Mr. Moody. Let's leave it at that."

"Not good enough. People like you don't just show up to lend a helping hand, just because there's one little dark lord running around. Frankly, I don't trust you."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Justin replied. "But, frankly, I don't need you to."

OR

"Oh? I'm sorry, but, where else would a soldier show up, if not a war?"

**And Finally:**

**(This is so old. At least five years now. I wrote it as a gift-fic for a friend. Same general universe with minor cannon differences. It's very unpolished writing on my part, hooray for Freshman self. But, you're welcome to it. Haha.) **

It was actually very reminiscent of the Halloween Parties he always avoided at the DWMA. If nothing else, the floating pumpkins and candles were the same.

He had attended the DWMA's Halloween Party...once. The annual Halloween party the DWMA threw was actually a pretty big deal, so he'd gone, but more out of sense of duty than because of any actual desire to do so.

It was a miserable experience. The music had been so loud he couldn't hear his own, even after he'd maxed out the volume on his headphones, there were way too many people for him to be comfortable, and don't even get him started on the blatant rule breaking.

Pouring alcohol into the punch during a school event? Did they truly have no respect for their fellow students, themselves and, most importantly, Lord Death? And the costumes too. Several of the female students had chosen to wear completely inadequate amounts of clothing and then tried to pass them off as a uniform of a nurse or maid. Some of the students had even dressed up as witches!

It still horrified Justin when he thought about it.

So even though every year Lord Death sent him an invitation to attend, he'd declined every one since he was twelve. Although saying no to Lord Death always took days of mental preparation on his part. In fact, right about the time of all the major holidays, he made an effort to load himself up with as much work as possible. That way he had a legitimate reason to refuse to go to any of his school's various social events.

As a result, this was the first Halloween related party he'd attended in years. Luckily, Hogwarts' party was more a feast then a party, and while the students were definitely in a festive mood, they also weren't behaving nearly as loudly and erratically as the students at the DWMA did. However, even though they weren't acting too insanely, the several foot gap between the House tables and the Staff table was something he was definitely appreciating. If his headphones had been working things would have been as perfect as they could get in a situation where so many people were present.

"You look tense, Professor Law," Sprout, who was sitting at his right, said.

"I am not a fan of parties," Justin replied.

"A seventeen year old who doesn't enjoy parties? And here I thought I'd seen everything," she joked.

Justin grimaced. "Every party I've attended has been loud, crowded and uncomfortable"

"And do you find this one loud, crowded and uncomfortable?"

"No, this atmosphere is one I can tolerate. I miss my headphones though."

"Headphones? I don't know what those are."

A few other teachers were listening in on their conversation. The youngest professor rarely spoke to any of them casually. Most of the time he was politely distant at dinner, and only spoke of strictly relevant topics at staff meetings. Now that he was willingly sharing personal information, several of them were interested in hearing what he had to say.

"They're a muggle invention," Justin said. "I have them with me actually, I'll show you."

He reached into his pockets and pulled out a pair of stylized skull attached to, what looked like, a thin metallic rope. (Prior to Professor Law's employment at Hogwarts the skulls probably would have alarmed them but, after weeks of working with him, the other teachers were used to the cartoon-like design the Defense professor favored.) The skulls were attached to a thin black rectangle. One side of it had a screen and a few buttons, the other had a white graphic, which shared the same skull design as the rest of Law's wardrobe.

"This is an MP3 player," Justin said, holding up the metallic rectangle. "They store music. This one can hold about ten thousand songs on it."

"That little thing can store ten thousand songs!?" Flickwit asked.

"Approximately," Justin replied.

"How do you listen to them?"

"With the headphones," Justin held them up. "They plug into it, and the song you choose comes out of them."

"Amazing," Flickwit said.

"It would be," Justin said. "Except they don't work here. It's really quite distressing, I haven't gone this long without them in years."

"There are spells that can conjure music," Sprout said.

"Yes," Justin said. "But there aren't any that can cancel out noise and play still-audible music at the same time."

Any further conversation was cut off as a bright red envelope appeared in a puff of smoke right in front of the Defense professor.

"HIYA JUSTIN!" A male, but high pitched, voice filled the room as the envelope opened itself. Unlike other Howlers, instead of turning into a screaming face, it folded itself into the skull Justin wore on his cross.

"My Lor-" Justin started, before the Howler cut him off.

"WE MISSED YOU AT THE HALLOWEEN PARTY! TRY NOT TO WORK TOO HARD 'KAY~! JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE THE HEAD OF OUR EUROPEAN DIVISION DOESN'T MEAN YOU CAN'T RELAX EVERY ONCE IN AWHILE! REMEMBER THAT YOU HAVE UNDERLINGS TO HELP YOU WITH PAPERWORK!"

"ARE YOU TALKING TO JUSTIN!?"

Another voice started screaming.

"QUIET SPIRIT! I'M TALKING TO JUSTIN!"

"HI JUSTIN!"

"I SAID BE QUIET!"

"BUT-"

" REAPER-CHOP!"

A crash and cry of pain filled the room.

"SORRY 'BOUT THAT JUSTIN! YOU KNOW HOW SPIRIT IS!"

A few pained whimpers flowed out of the letter.

"ANYWAYS I JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW THAT WE'RE WORKING ON YOUR HEADPHONE PROBLEM! STEIN THINKS HE'LL HAVE A NEW PROTOTYPE THAT'LL WORK AT HOGWARTS IN A FEW WEEKS."

The voice paused.

"HHHHHHHMMMMMM...I FEEL LIKE I'M FORGETTING SOMETHIN'. SPIRIT WHAT AM I FORGETTING?"

Groan.

"WELL, I GUESS NOT THEN. TTYL JUSTIN. I'M OUT."

Silence reigned in the hall as every set of eyes in the hall turned to look at the Defense Professor. He was staring at the Howler, which was beginning to tear itself up, with a look of complete adoration.

"Well, that's embarrassing," Ron said.

"I don't know," Harry said. "He's practically glowing."

"What do you think the letter meant by Head of the European Division?" Hermione asked.

Law had danced around all their questions. He'd wax poetic about how happy he was to get the letter itself, but any questions about the actual contents of it were skillfully avoided.

Snape hated a lot of things, James Potter, Harry Potter, Sirius Black, students, James Potter, incompetent students, James Potter, Gryffindors, students, students who were Gryffindors, James Potter, incompetent Gryffindor students named James Potter, etc. He also hated cats. That one was a rather new addition to the list. A few days ago he had been indifferent towards their existence.

Funny how quickly his opinion could change.

There was one following him. It was black, agile and wore a ridiculous hat, probably a student pet and undoubtedly some hellspawn sent to torture him.

He'd woken up that morning with the cat sleeping on, and ruining, piles of graded papers. In the span of a few hours it had proceeded to sabotage every attempted brewing he had started _and_ it had ruined over half of the ingredients in his _private _store-cupboard, looking for food, he could only assume. Every attempt to remove it had failed. The thing had the luck of the devil. Every spell he'd attempted to cast at it had been dodged or avoided and, as a result, something of his was destroyed in the cat's place.

_Stupefy! The cat bent over to clean it's paws. ! #% my cauldron!_

It was (had?) driving him mad.

The fact that it was in the dungeons probably meant it was one of his Slytherin's pets, but not even that would save the owner of the demon from his wrath once he found them.

But he'd have to worry about it later. He had a staff meeting to attend.

"Did you get a cat, Severus?" Mcgonagall asked as he walked into the room.

Snape glanced at her. She and several other teachers were all sitting at a rectangular table. Dumbledore would usually sit at the head of it and she was sitting to the chair directly to the right of that. As was usual for staff meetings, a complete tea set had been set out and various scones and biscuits were displayed throughout the table.

Snape looked down at the cat dogging his heels and grimaced. "I most certainly did not. This infernal thing has been following all morning. When I find it's owner," he trailed off, with a dark expression.

He sat down next to Mcgonagall, the only empty place at the table besides the Headmaster's spot and the chair directly to the left of it, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. The cat took the opportunity to use his lap as a springboard to get onto the table.

It sniffed a few of the scones and then proceeded to walk up and down the length of the table like it owned it, with a slight swishing of it's hips and a haughty expression.

Snape glared.

"She's a pretty cat, Severus," Mcgonagall said. "If nothing else, you have good taste."

"And the hat is adorable," Sprout added.

As if it understood what had been said, the cat turned around and meowed right at Sprout. It's eyes had closed and it purred once, as if proud of the complement.

"It's. Not. Mine."

Completely undermining the statement, the cat jumped into the Potion Master's lap, curled into a ball, and closed it's eyes. Snape began to stand up to throw the thing off when Mcgonagall cut in.

"That's no way to treat an animal, Severus."

The Deputy Headmistress was looking at the monster with a sort of fondness. She'd always been partial to cats, and, due to the nature of her animagus form, she definitely did not approve of people who treated them poorly.

Snape, not willing to test the older professor, sat down and grumbled to himself under his breath.

"Demon, hellspawn, monster, beast, sith-lord."

"Did you say something Severus?" Dumbledore asked as he and the Defense Professor walked into the room.

The two of them always came in together, now that Snape thought about it. Whether it be meals, or meetings, or "professor-bonding-activities" (Dumbledore's idea), the two of them always seemed to enter at the same time.

Irrelevant but interesting, he supposed as he opened his mouth to answer Dumbledore's question. "Nothing, Headmaster."

"Alright then," Dumbledore sat down and Professor Law sat to his left. After settling himself in, he began speaking.

"I would like to thank you all for coming. I know you are all very busy and I want you to know that the work you do is appreciated. Every one of you brings something unique to this school and it is always a pleasure, both for myself and the students, to experience your individual efforts to make Hogwarts what it is, the greatest place of learning in the whole of Europe. Thank you for all that you do."

Dumbledore beamed at them.

"Now, to move on to business; this is our second full staff meeting since the beginning of term, so I'd like to start with a report about our new first years from the Heads of House, now that the four of you have had to opportunity to observe them."

Snape listened to his colleagues, the new Gryffindors were very promising and very brash, two of them had already gotten into a fight, the Hufflepuffs were homesick and incompetent, one of them had already put himself in the infirmary after blowing his eyebrows off with a lumos charm of all things, and the new Ravenclaws were studious and quiet, there was nothing of interest for Flitwick to talk about; it was the same report they gave every year, with slight variations and new names.

Snape too, didn't have much of interest to say either. But even if he had, the other professor's probably wouldn't have been paying attention anyways. He could tell they, with the exclusion of Law (who was far too serious/professional to not listen to everyone's reports with rapt attention) and Dumbledore (who was far too eccentric to be affected by pretty much anything) were trying hard not to laugh at him, due to the cat still sleeping on his lap.

Probably looking to save the other professor's from trying to contain giggles while they gave their report, the Headmaster turned to the Defense Professor and said, "Why don't you tell us how your classes are going Professor Law. Are you having any problems with students?"

"None, sir," Justin said. "At first, there were a few who didn't enjoy the idea of being taught by someone my age, but a small demonstration of my abilities was enough to set any doubts aside."

"I'm glad your age isn't inhibiting your ability to teach effectively," Dumbledore said.

Justin nodded. "I agree, there is far too much to catch up on for something like that to set me back."

"Catch up?"

"Yes, I've found that the ability and knowledge levels vary dramatically, both between the years and the individuals in specific classes. My Second and Third years, for example, have very good Defense foundations, but the Fourth years are struggling to keep up with the curriculum I had in mind. The same goes for the Fifth and Seventh years, it's going to be very difficult to get them ready for their OWLS and NEWTS because a lot of them, while they may be competent at certain aspects of the discipline, simply do not have the background knowledge necessary to advance past a certain point."

"What are your plans then, Professor Law?" Dumbledore asked.

"I had some ideas in mi-"

The Priest was cut off by as the cat on Snape's lap jumped on the table.

"Professor Law? As in Justin Law?" it asked, in a voice that was undoubtedly human.

Snape, and the other Heads of House jumped out of their seats and drew their wands. The other professors, excluding Law and Dumbledore, were quick to follow their lead.

Dumbledore, who noted Justin's lack of alarm, gestured for them to be on guard, but to not attack. Justin ignored the other professors in favor of watching the cat, who had come to sit in front of him on the table.

"Yes, that's me," he said, nodding. "How may I help you?"

"Kya~You're so cute!" the cat replied. With that being said, the cat turned into a puff of smoke.

Snape raised his wand to clear the smoke and, as it dissipated, a, ahem, well endowed, purple-haired woman, dressed in a skin tight black dress and curly witch hat appeared on the table.

She leaned in towards Law and winked seductively.

"Want to ditch this lame meeting? We could have way more fun by ourselves," she breathed into his ear.

Bang!

The back of the Priest's chair, and his head, hit the floor. He'd jolted back so much that his seat had fallen over. His eyes were wide and his face was entirely crimson. He rolled over off the chair, and stood up. As he did so, he pointedly looked away from the woman.

"D-DD-Don't bbe ssso indecent," the Priest stuttered as his eyes roamed everywhere in the room except near the cat.

Everyone in the room noticed the boy had his rosary in a white-knuckled, death grip.

Dumbledore decided it was time to step in.

"Pardon my asking, but I'm afraid I have no idea who you are," he said to the woman.

"Oh, how rude of me," she sing-songed. "I'm Blair."

"And how did you get in my dungeons?" Snape sneered at her.

"Hey Grouchy-Guy," Blair waved at him. "I had a lot of fun playing with you this morning. We should do it again sometime."

The other Professors gave Snape a hard look.

"What ever you are thinking is not true," Snape snapped, his own face gained a light brushing of red. He turned to address Blair, "I don't appreciate being ignored, woman. How do you get in my dungeons?"

"I don't understand what you mean. I walked into them, saw how sad and lonely and greasy you looked, and decided you needed a friend."

Snape looked ready to whip out a few AK's so Dumbledore jumped back in the conversation.

"I think what Severus means is that we're wondering how you got through the wards. You shouldn't even have been able to get into the school, let alone the dungeons."

Wards against Animagi had been set up after the whole Sirius Black/Peter Pettigrew debacle.

"What wards?" Blair asked. She paused for a few moments before her eyes lit up. "Oh! Are you talking about the big bubbles around the school?"

She laughed. "Blair isn't affected by wards like that. They're for keeping humans out."

"You're a cat," Professor Law said, as the light of his soul-percept faded from his eyes. (He'd taken the opportunity to look at her soul/souls as the other professors had been distracted.) "That's how you got through."

"Wow, Priest Boy, you're really smart!" she squealed. The cat jumped off the table and pulled him into a hug (less a hug and more of a ramming his face into her cleavage).

Justin pulled away almost instantly and jumped back a good five feet.

(The male professors weren't sure whether to be impressed with his willpower or athleticism.)

His face was red again, he opened his mouth to say something before shutting it again. His whole countenance was the epitome of flustered.

Blair stared at him before her eyes welled up with tears."You don't like me, do you?" she said, shoulders slumped and voice hurt.

Justin's eyes widened. "That's not, I mean, I apologize, ah, that is, excuse me, I don't, or wasn't, I'm sure you're very...," his voice trailed off.

"Oh Lord, guide me," he whispered to himself.

He wasn't a stranger to comforting tearful women. Being a Priest, sometimes it just came with the job. But he'd never been the cause of a crying female. He didn't even know where to begin.

Obviously his distress showed on his face, because Blair took pity on him. The cat's tears evaporate instantly and she laughed. "You're so sweet, Priest. I'm just teasing you. I'm a big kitty, I can handle a little rejection."

Justin released a sigh of relief.

"Kitty?" Dumbledore asked. "Could you explain what you mean by that?"

Blair tilted her head to the side and gave Dumbledore a look that showed her confusion over the question. "Kitty is just another word for cat," she said.

_Well Duh,_ was heavily implied in the statement.

"Obviously," Snape sneered.

Justin took that as his cue to clarify everyone's misunderstandings. "Blair is a cat with enough magical energy to take a human form."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Snape replied.

"Excuse me?" Blair asked.

"Obviously you're some Animagus ditz who wandered in. I don't know how but-"

"What did you call me?" Blair screeched.

"A ditz," Snape repeated.

"Oh, it is so on, Greasy-Guy," she said, as she twirling her (perfectly manicured) index finger. "Pumpkin, Pum, Pum, Pumpkin."

Justin's eyes widened. "Blair don't-"

Blair swiped her hand out towards Snape and a glowing pumpkin, followed by a beam of orange and purple light, shot towards him.

"Halloween Cannon!"

"Saint Cross Knife!"

The Defense Professor moved so fast he blurred. He appeared, along with a glowing cross, in front of the Potions Professor, who hadn't been able to pull up a shield charm fast enough.

The pumpkin hit the cross not even a second after it came up. The two collided with a flash of light and exploded. The professors all turned away from the bright display.

As the light dissipated, they turned back to look at the two foreigners.

Law had taken up a defensive position in front of Snape. His hands were up and guarding his face while his legs were bent into a balanced stance. Blair, on the other hand, was relaxed, with her arms folded and her face curled in an unhappy expression.

"Move~pr~ie~st!" She whined, managing to turn his title into three syllables.

"I think it would be best if you left, Blair," Justin replied.

"Aww, don't kick me out. You know he deserved that!" she said.

"I apologize on his behalf. That comment was out of line. However, I would still request that you leave."

"Hmph, killjoy," she said. "Fine, I'll leave. By the way," she waved her fingers and an Ipod and a pair of headphones appeared on the staff table. "I was supposed to give that to you."

She smiled. "Hope you enjoy Priest-Boy!"

She flicked her fingers again and a giant pumpkin appeared on the table, which she nimbly hopped on to. As she stepped on to it, it began to glow and then levitate off the table.

"If you ever get bored, come find me. We could have a ton of _fun_ together."

Justin blushed.

"See ya!"

With that said, she snapped her fingers and disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.

Justin sighed and collapsed into his chair. A cacophony of voices filled the room.

"Who was that?!"

"Wandless magic?!"

"Giant Cross!?"

"Professor Law!"

"Professor Law!"

"Professor Law!"

He reached over the table and picked up the supposedly new and improved MP3 player. He put the headphones in his ears and turned the device on. He smiled as his favorite song began to pour through the speakers. He maxed out the volume and closed his eyes.

Ah, blessed silence.

* * *

**A/N: Well, this is probably my most favorite piece of writing I've ever produced. I'm sad to see it go. Thanks again to all of you! **


End file.
